


Easterngate

by kermitwashingtonlincon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, First Kiss, Gay Panic, Gen, Human AU, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Sharing a Bed, aziraphale also considers murder sometimes, aziraphale loves crowleys eyes, i dont care about historical innacuracies, just sometimes though, maybe a bit of homophobia, mostly just wholesomeish, non sexual tho get ur minds outta the gutter, the first chapter is a rushed mess i promise it gets better, what year is it? idk and im the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-06 07:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20287816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kermitwashingtonlincon/pseuds/kermitwashingtonlincon
Summary: Aziraphale is a prince of Easterngate and is betrothed to princess Beelzebub of Eden, neither of them are very pleased with this, and Aziraphale is even less so excited when he realizes that the princess's brother, anthony is actually quite charming





	1. one (aziraphale)

**Author's Note:**

> no beta readers we die like men. so hi this is my first fic, it's kind of inspired by a book called Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Colehurst (10/10) would recommend.anyways comments are appreciated. i hope later chapters will be longer but this is just to test the waters.

Prince Aziraphale of Easterngate was perfectly content as the fourth and, thankfully, final child of his queenly mother and, recently deceased, father. Being the youngest, Aziraphale had the least amount of royal duties (although he would prefer none), he mostly sat in the library and read, or more accurately, devoured it’s books. Despite looking nothing like his siblings with his curly blonde hair and hazel eyes, while his two brothers and sister had straight, dark hair and eerily blue eyes, it was no question that Aziraphale was royal, with the way he walked and talked and did almost everything.  
“Aziraphale,” a voice said behind the prince making him jump.  
“Hello, Sandalphon,” Aziraphale greeted his eldest brother, who he rarely spoke to unless Sandalphon needed something.  
“I heard there’s big news for you,” he paused and smiled, “It should be announced at dinner tonight.”  
“Oh,” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say, there was never big news for him, unless his siblings were trying to make a fool of him.  
“I won’t spoil the surprise,” Sandalphon’s smile grew colder than usual as he walked away.

Aziraphale, quite suddenly found himself at dinner with his sister Michael to his left, and his brother Gabriel sat directly across from him. The young prince wanted to focus on the large piece of chicken on his plate, or his drink, or the silver thread that had come loose on his coat’s lapel. Alas, all that was on his mind was what Sandalphon had said earlier. Technically, Sandalphon was to be king this time next year, as he had been born twenty-three minutes earlier than Gabriel, who resented Sandalphon almost as much as Aziraphale.  
Queen Frances took a sip of her wine, and adjusted a long, blonde, curl that Aziraphale had inherited. Setting the glass down, the Queen looked right to her youngest son.  
“Aziraphale,” she began.  
“Yes, mother?” Aziraphale straightened up, he was not often addressed directly.  
“Wonderful news, dear,” Aziraphale clung to her words but stole a glance to Sandalphon, maybe he hadn’t been lying, “You’re to be married to Princess Beelzebub of the Crowley family.” Aziraphale didn’t know there was anything in his mouth to choke on until he choked on it in surprise.  
“Im- I’m sorry?” He was certain he must have misheard her. Sandalphon was smiling behind his wine and Gabriel laughed into his food.  
“Princess Beelzebub of the Crowley family, she is about to turn eighteen so it’s as good a time as ever for an alliance to be secured, she is heir to the throne of Eden,” Aziraphale suddenly felt like he was about to faint.  
“Why can’t Michael marry her brother?” Aziraphale spat out, he was well aware of the fact that Princess Beelzebub was not kind to anyone, and her spouse would be no different, especially if she was to have a crown on her head.  
“Because Prince Anthony is a little prick,” Michael muttered from her seat beside Aziraphale, which earned her a glare from the Queen.  
“Because, my dear, Prince Anthony shows no interest in diplomatic relationships, he apparently spends all of his time in the city and hardly knows anything about his royal duties,” the Queen corrected her daughter. Aziraphale was about to ask why Gabriel or Sandalphon couldn’t marry the princess and then realized exactly why it was him. Nobody liked the young prince, and marrying him off to an heir to a far-off kingdom was a great way to not only get rid of him, but increase Easterngate’s power as a nation.  
“May I be excused?” Aziraphale tried to sound polite, and probably failed, but he was allowed away and out of the situation anyways. Aziraphale knew that he was going to burst into tears in the next few minutes and didn’t wish to have servants bothering him in the library, so he went to wallow in his bed chamber.  
He sat, angrily, on his large cushioned bed, that he would no longer have in at most a month, with any luck he could be shipped off to Eden and never have to speak to his siblings again. But he was not so lucky.  
“Zira?” A knock at the door.  
“Don’t call me that, Gabriel.”  
“All right, all right,” Gabriel walked into Aziraphale’s bedchamber.  
“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Aziraphale didn’t want to talk to anybody right now, actually, let alone his family.  
“I know you’re upset, but this will be good. I heard Prince Anthony is your age, maybe he could be your friend.”  
“You say that as if I’m a baby.”  
“You are certainly acting like one.”  
“Gabriel.”  
“Right, sorry. Anyways, I believe Prince Anthony is turning seventeen this week, and you turned seventeen last month.”  
“Oh great, do I have to attend four lavish parties now?” Aziraphale groaned at the thought of a royal birthday party, then another one for the princess, and then a wedding and then a coronation, his feet hurt just at the thought of all the dancing he knew he would have to do in uncomfortable shoes.  
“That would be preferable, yes.”  
“I don’t want to marry Beelzebub.”  
“Well it’s either that or you marry Prince Anthony,” Gabriel feigned a gag before laughing at his statement’s ridiculousness and leaving the room.

Two days later Aziraphale was in a carriage on the day long trip to Eden, reading a book about its history and traditions, and was trying to take his mind off of meeting his intended when he reached a section on weddings in Eden. To his horror, the young prince found out that it was tradition for the bride and groom to ride a horse to their home from the venue together, it was then Aziraphale remembered that Eden was fairly big on horse-riding, and it’s people were very proud of it. Aziraphale had never even ridden a horse, not even on the back of one with somebody else steering. Horses had never been big in the culture of Easterngate, so he had never seen the point in learning to ride. Now the prince regretted all his life choices when he realized that he would have to ride a horse in front of the whole kingdom with a princess clinging to him.  
“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale whispered to himself, deciding to gaze out the window the rest of the way to his dreaded fate, watching the tall mountains morph into a thick forest filled with wolves and bears and all sorts of things that frightened Aziraphale in broad daylight.  
After several hours, houses sparsely appeared on the landscape and soon they were in the city of Eden, its citizens ooing and aaing at the pearly carriage that carried their queen-to-be’s betrothed. Outside the window, a young man on the biggest horse Aziraphale had ever seen in his life rode up, uncomfortably close. The horse was nearly as beautiful as the young man riding it, with red hair just to his shoulders and a very angular face, dressed in all black, to match the horse. The man lowered his head so he was at eye level with Aziraphale, who wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to a strange man next to his carriage. The young man smiled and rode off, laughing as he rushed towards the castle.  
“Maybe he’s a stable boy,” Aziraphale thought to himself, "A very pretty one at that." The prince shook his head, he was getting married for Christ's sake! This was no time to fawn over stable boys.


	2. two (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has dinner with his soon to be family and then has an interesting guest in his bedchamber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this chapter a lot better than chapter one, i hope you do as well

“Presenting: Prince Aziraphale Johnathan Yates of the kingdom of Easterngate, first of his name!” Announced a very loud man dressed in the distinguished colors of Eden, silver and red, which were a large contrast to the blue and white flag Aziraphale had been raised beneath. Aziraphale smiled politely and stepped up to the front of the tall castle where the king stood, to his left was Princess Beelzebub, who was surprisingly short, with thin black hair against her sickly skin. To her left stood the stable boy.   
Better known as Prince Anthony, his red hair had been tugged into a painful looking braid, and small, smoked-lensed, glasses covered his eyes, he smiled at Aziraphale in a “bet-you-weren’t-expecting-me” way.   
Drawing his attention away from Anthony, Aziraphale shook hands with the king, who’s grip was hard and firm, making Aziraphale wince when he pulled his hand away, with red fingerprints left on is manicured hand. Beelzebub’s handshake was cold, her bones stabbed Aziraphale and long, black nails, clawed at his flesh. Aziraphale inhaled before shaking the prince’s hand, his palms were hard and calloused, nothing Aziraphale had ever felt before, and his grip was, thankfully, loose and forgiving. Another smile, which was returned by Aziraphale this time.   
“Welcome, Aziraphale,” the king’s voice was deep, and like gravel in Aziraphale’s ears.  
“You must be tired from your long journey,” Beelzebub said in a voice coated in honey, “Let us go eat dinner, we can become more acquainted.” she grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and tugged him through the castle, droning on about the wedding and dinner and her birthday. All Aziraphale could muster were nods and shakes of his head, the occasional “interesting”, he desperately wished he was not going to be forced to go through with this wedding. Anthony followed at Aziraphale’s side, snickering at his sister’s ramblings.”Help me” Aziraphale mouthed, the other prince simply shook his head and sauntered ahead, his boots tapping on the stone floor.   
Aziraphale decided he would rather focus on the walls of the castle than his fiance, so he did. The tapestries grew gorier with every step, and more, well, explicit. On one, a pale figure had a large black snake coiled around his body, in another, naked women dancing around a fire, and a third depicts a man holding a pike with the head of a king on it. Despite how he disliked them, Aziraphale found an odd comfort in focusing on them, the colors, the shapes, and the stories they told. He would have to ask somebody about them all later, maybe find a book on it in the library. If the vast, dark, castle even had one.  
Aziraphale was now sitting in a large chair behind a long table of dark wood at the front of an enormous dining hall, with a large chandelier hanging very precariously from the ceiling. On the floor of the dining hall were more long tables with benches on either side, each bench filled the people of Eden, mostly the ones of higher birth, but a few villagers had managed to make their way into the hall and find a seat at a table. Everyone wanted a look at the new prince, with his blonde curly hair and silver clothes, soft smile and a round face. Definitely not like anyone they had ever seen before.  
“Anthony?” Aziraphale spoke the first words he had actually put thought behind all day.  
“Yes, Prince Aziraphale of Easterngate?” Anthony drawled sarcastically.  
“Why is everyone looking at me?”  
“Ask your fiance.”  
“I don’t really want to, she’s occupied,” Aziraphale told the young man, and Beelzebub was occupied with her third glass of wine, muttering something about a wedding night and how she would need more for it.  
“Well you stand out. With your,” Anthony paused, “everything.”  
“What does that mean?”  
Anthony ran a hand through Aziraphale’s hair, a moment that lasted too long but also felt too short. “Your hair, for a start. We don’t get pretty blondes here,” Anthony told him, and Aziraphale felt a tiny flush in his cheeks. Aziraphale nodded and started working on his dinner, he didn’t like it very much but anything to keep him occupied, he washed down the bad taste with wine.Muchmore wine than he would usually have, and by the time dessert was over he was feeling a bit drunk.  
“Goodnight, love,” Beelzebub said, as she dropped Aziraphale off at his room, and stood on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. Yes, she was definitely drunk. Aziraphale walked into the bedchamber, it was surprisingly empty, unlike the rest of the castle. All it contained was a large four poster bed with translucent grey curtains around it, a desk made of that same dark wood, a red sofa and armchair, a small table and, thank the lord, a bookshelf. Aziraphale opened the door to what he presumed was his closet, but it was instead a small, private bath, the only room with white in it he had seen since his arrival. He did find the closet, already filled with a mixture of his clothes from home and new clothes, and he pulled out his white silk pyjamas. The young prince finally felt at least a bit at home in his pyjamas, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, so he did.  
Aziraphale’s dreams of home were interrupted at around one in the morning when a loud thump came from his bay window. “Wonderful,” he thought, “Maybe I’ll be threatened and I can call of the wedding due to my emotional distress.”  
“Shit!” a voice hissed.  
“Anthony?” Aziraphale sat up in bed, as moonlight framed curly red hair.  
“Sorry, I- I uhm, I didn’t know you would be in this particular bedchamber,” Anthony whispered, “Sometimes I sneak back into the castle from here. It’s the closest guest chamber to mine.”  
“Why do you have to sneak back?” Aziraphale asked.  
“Because I snuck out and I would prefer to not spend the night in a cruddy tavern,” the young man replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
“But why?”  
“Because I hate it here, angel.”   
Aziraphale blushed, “Angel?”  
Anthony seemed like he didn’t know how to respond. Probably because he didn’t. “Just, do me a favor and don’t tell anyone I was out.”  
“Fine, but you owe me.”  
“You can hold that to me, write it down on your calendar or something ‘Anthony owes me favor’,” Anthony grumbled, Aziraphale would have to keep that favor in mind, maybe he could show him all the tapestries tomorrow. The door creaked open and Anthony slipped out of the room, leaving Aziraphale to go back to his dream.  
The next morning, Aziraphale woke to the sun right in his eyes, and pulled his blankets off only to realize his bedchamber was freezing, Anthony had left the window open last night. The prince dressed himself, in less silver and white today, he hated all the eyes of the kingdom on him, and even taking a few sets away would lift a weight from his shoulders. Aziraphale opened his big bedchamber door and walked down the hall, past tapestries to where he remembered the dining hall to be. This morning the whole hall looked sharper, more brightly lit, and cleaner.  
“Milord?” a servant called, Aziraphale turned to the voice, “Apologies, Milord, but this hall is for public dinners, private family meals are in a separate room.” The maid guided Aziraphale to a much smaller dining room, still with a long, dark wooden table set with ornate china and golden goblets. The King was already at its head, with his daughter to the left. Unsure of where to sit, Axiraphale looked to Beelzebub, who gestured to the seat across from her, and so he sat, and the princess’s dark brown eyes bored into him, making him fidget nervously.  
“Tony isn’t here yet, can we just eat?” Beelzebub pleaded with her father.  
“Don’t call me Tony,” Anthony walked into the dining room, hair pulled into a loose, messy braid resting on his faded black jacket, “I might just start calling you Bea,” he sneered at his sister, who stuck her tongue out in a very unladylike fashion.  
“Well, we’re all here now, Beelzebub. You can eat now, happy?” The King reminded the siblings that they were at the table.  
“Yes, father.” They said in unison.  
Anthony sat down next to Aziraphale and Aziraphale could have sworn that they bumped knees on purpose as Beelzebub shot daggers at Anthony. When Beelzebub was done trying to kill her brother with her eyes, she began to talk everyone’s ear off about wedding plans, and how she was going to wear white and Aziraphale would be in black to symbolise the union of the kingdoms or something.  
“Oh I am just so excited for the big day,” she would say and talk about every tiny detail but Aziraphale, who was currently considering stabbing himself with the knife he was using to put jam on his toast.  
“I’m glad you’re happy with the arrangement,” the King said, but he never turned to ask if Aziraphale was happy with it. Even if it was his wedding, he knew it really wasn’t about him, Beelzebub could be marrying a parrot for all she talked about, just something pretty and soft that will listen to her, the whole thing was really about securing her as queen. The thought made Aziraphale a bit sick and he asked to be excused, he was permitted, less people to interrupt Beelzebub and her wedding talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is from crowley's perspective :)


	3. three (crowley/anthony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowley's pov! he sneaks out of the castle to see his friends and ends up in aziraphale's room again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres a mention of someone falling from a balcony in this chapter, and it implies past relationships that crowley has had

Anthony stood up from the table, not bothering to ask permission, and went after Aziraphale. “Beelzebub only cares about herself, don’t let it bother you,” Anthony said to the blonde prince when he caught up to him.  
“Well I have to marry Beelzebub, so it might bother me just a little bit,” Aziraphale pouted, to Anthony’s dismay. The two princes walked along the hall, but anyone who listened to their footsteps would think it was just one, as their feet had fallen into sync as they made their way to the castle library. Down a skinny hall and up an unbearably long spiral staircase, the library was the same as the rest of the castle of Eden, big, dark and cold, the only difference being that instead of lewd and/or gory tapestries, the walls were covered in books. Aziraphale smiled when he realized they were in the library, a smile that grew wider when he saw the doorway to a balcony.  
“This is the highest tower in the castle,” Anthony informed his friend.  
“Then let’s go out there!” Aziraphale was much too excited about this and Anthony’s heart ached at the sight of the prince running excitedly for the balcony. Anthony sauntered after the other young man and they gazed over the forest below. Aziraphale was leaning over the edge of the balcony, surveying the trees and gasping at a gigantic murmuration of birds, leaning further over the edge until half his body was hanging in mid air, and Anthony had half a mind to grab his shoulders and scream “BOO!”, but he did not. Instead he found himself grabbing Aziraphale by the waist and tugging him away from the edge.   
“What was that for?”  
“You were gonna fall, and I’ve seen the people who fell from here,” Anthony hissed through his teeth, remembering when his mother had fallen from the tower, her body all contorted and broken on the ground below, “Not pretty.”  
“Maybe I should bring Beelzebub up here then,” Aziraphale said, and then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth.  
“Please do,” Anthony laughed.  
Anthony heard someone yelling, probably from the staircase that led to the library, it grew clearer and he could make out the name, they were yelling for Aziraphale. “I think somebody is looking for you.”  
“Yes I think so. Lord, if it’s wedding planning I’m coming back up here to throw myself out the window,” Aziraphale grumbled as he began to walk away.  
“Wanna meet here tomorrow? Nobody is ever up here.”  
“I’d like that,” Aziraphale smiled, and jumped when his name was called again, “Best be going.”  
Anthony stayed out on the balcony until dinner, mostly laying on his back watching the clouds hung low in the sky, so close he felt as if he could reach out and grab a soft tuft or shape the clouds into whatever he wanted and send them away. Maybe he could make a dragon shaped cloud, and it could sail over the city and scare everyone, distract them enough to let the young prince miraculously slither away in the chaos.  
Dinner wasn’t as unpleasant as usual, Beelzebub was a bit quieter and was now talking about her birthday party rather than the wedding. Anthony picked at his food with his long fingers and drifted off, brought back down by the prince by his side asking “Isn’t your birthday soon, Anthony?”  
“Hm? Yeah, the twenty-seventh,” he replied.  
“Is it? That’s only two days from now.”  
“Is today the twenty-fifth?”  
“Yes. Good lord do you even keep track?”  
“No, he doesn’t,” Beelzebub interrupted before Anthony could answer for himself. Anthony did not keep track of the days, to be fair, but he would have liked to keep Beelzebub quiet for a few more minutes, or hours, anything to stop her endless buzzing.  
“Well there’s going to be a party right?” Aziraphale said after a few seconds.  
“Yes, of course. It’s more of a festival, though,” The king spoke for the first time tonight.  
“Oh I love festivals,” Aziraphale smiled at Anthony.  
“Well a royal birthday’s festival is one of the biggest of the year, it should be fun,” Anthony said, although he knew his birthday was going to be so small compared to his sister’s, as well as the royal wedding, and especially the coronation. From that point dinner continued as usual, Beelzebub wouldn’t shut up and the princes were both a bit tipsy from trying to drown her out with wine, and Anthony left to his bedchamber.  
The bedchambers were the same in every part of the dark castle, same bed, same curtains, desk, chairs, all of it, except Anthony’s was very messy, as he would never allow the maids to clean it. His bed remained un-made, books sat open on his desk, and the small table by the couch and armchair was broken from having being sat on, rather than the chairs in the room. The floor was also occasionally littered with clothes that were certainly not Anthony’s, and a large splotch of wine from a stolen bottle was covered in a black fur rug.  
“I need to get out,” Anthony said to himself, walking over to his closet, unbuttoning his shirt, he decided to pull out a dress, a dress that was once black but was worn into a blue-grey. The prince tugged the dress on over his underclothes and cinched his waist, but he kept on the same leather boots he always wore, dress or no dress. Anthony walked to the window, opening it as quietly as possible, and jumped out onto the ledge, silently thanking somebody that the vines growing from the guest chamber’s window reached his own. He made his way down the wall moderately unscathed, having his braid tugged out by a jagged stone, but he planned on taking the braid out anyways.

The town was busy, getting ready for the prince’s birthday festival, all still buzzing with excitement about Aziraphale’s arrival as people hung the last streamers of the day up.  
“Crowley!” Yelled someone behind Anthony.  
“Adam!” Anthony ran for the boy and his friends, they were all a year or so younger than him but Pepper could out-drink Anthony any day of the week, and Wensleydale was still small enough for Anthony to pick up and throw around. “Where were you guys last night? I didn’t see you.”  
“Adam got into trouble, which got all of us into trouble,” Pepper complained with a roll of brown eyes.  
“What did you do this time?”Anthony teased the group.  
“I got a dog!” Adam proudly opened his messenger bag, where a little black and white puppy napped.  
“His name’s Dog,” Brian said through a mouthful of bread, and broke off a piece to hand to Pepper.  
“That’s a stupid name, that would be like if I named Bentley ‘Horse’,” Anthony scoffed.  
“That’s what we told him but he doesn’t listen,” Pepper said, “Because he’s stupid.” The comment earned Pepper a slap on the arm from Adam.  
“Anyways, we didn’t know you were out last night, what with that other prince’s arrival. What’s his name? It’s also a stupid name,” Wenseleydale snapped his fingers.  
Anthony straightened his back and puffed out his chest “Prince Aziraphale Johnathan Yates,” he mocked.  
“Yeah! That was it, reminds me of that boy from last year, all blonde and stuff,” Brian said.  
“Is that all you remember about James?” Anthony raised an eyebrow, he and that “boy from last year”, better known as James, had been- close.  
“I remember when Beelzebub caugh-” Adam began.  
“Okay!” Anthony blurted, “Well I would love to continue this conversation, but I would also love to be drunk,” Anthony told them, turning towards his favorite tavern and sauntering away.  
In this particular tavern, near the edge of the town, Anthony was not the only man in a dress and Pepper was not the only girl in trousers, but Adam was the only person with a dog in his bag, so he left, taking Wensleydale, who had never been much for a drink anyways, with him. Pepper already had two drinks in hand, but she did not pass one to Anthony, or Brian, instead she put both to her mouth at the same time and drank.   
Anthony got drinks for himself and lost Pepper and Brian as he progressively lost more and more of the night. At some point a young man tugged on Anthony’s dress, normally Anthony would have offered him a drink but tonight he didn’t feel like it, which was unusual, because he felt like that every night. Except maybe last night, as well.  
The very drunk prince made his way back to the castle, and to the place beneath the guest chamber window, completely forgetting that at this moment a young blonde prince occupying it, a fact Anthony only remembered as he landed in the room.  
“Anthony? Is that you again?”  
“Ah. sshit,” Anthony whispered as Aziraphale climbed out of his bed to approach him.  
“Is this going to be a nightly occurrence?” Before Anthony could answer Aziraphale said, “And are you wearing a dress?”  
“Hopefully I’ll remember this’s your room tomorrow night, and yeah. I’m in a dresss,” Anthony slurred.  
“Let’s get you to bed,” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the arm and walked him out of the room, towards his own.  
“Please.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Nothin’ ‘s nothin’.”  
“If you say so,” Aziraphale opened the door to Anthony’s bedchamber and Anthony suddenly became very embarrassed of its state, especially about the clothes that weren’t his that hung over the side of the couch.  
“Yeah ’s messy.”  
“Why don’t you have a maid clean it?”  
“I wouldn’t wanna subject anyone to that at this point,” Anthony told Aziraphale as he walked to his bed and absentmindedly began to take off his dress.  
“Anthony?”  
“Sorry! Didn’t know you were still here.”  
“I wanted to make sure you fell asleep fine,” Aziraphale said meekly, “If you want me to leave-”  
“No no, if you’re so intent on my safety,” Anthony teased, and thanked the lord it was dark in his bedchamber, still light enough for a light to shine from the hazel eyes in the doorway, though.  
Aziraphale walked into the room and picked up the shirt hanging over the couch with two fingers before tossing it away and sitting down, manicured hands folded in his lap as usual, as Anthony crawled beneath his dark sheets, not bothering to put on his pyjamas, too drunk, too tired.  
In Anthony’s dream he was in a huge white castle, standing beneath a cross and a priest, he looked down to see his white suit, as if he would ever wear white, or a suit. Then he looked up and ahead of him into hazel eyes.   
And then he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this chapter, thanks for sticking with me


	4. four (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has his first actual conversation with his fiance and learns something fun and new about her charming brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres talk about how aziraphale's father died, and a past relationship anthony had. quite a bit of dialouge

Aziraphale watched Anthony sleep for a minute or two until he realized he was being a little creepy, and left, catching a glance at the clock; 2:46, tomorrow was Anthony’s birthday. Aziraphale padded back down the hall in the very low light, feet numb from the un-carpeted stone floors, this was very unlike home.   
Home had soft ivory carpets and beautiful paintings on the walls, walls that were made of stone but didn’t have the same coldness of Eden’s castle, due to the large windows that spent the day letting the sun drip in, coating everything in gold in the afternoon. Here, the sunset was tucked away behind the trees, only visible from high balconies, and the windows weren’t windows at all, but small slits in the wall to fire arrows from.   
Aziraphale cringed as his door opened with a creak, and ran to his big black bed, thinking how maybe he could request a lighter color. “Beelzebub will probably want black sheets on our bed,” Aziraphale thought, “our bed.” He didn’t like calling anything with Beelzebub “ours” because it was really hers, she would just be sharing it with Aziraphale because she needed to. Beelzebub would become queen and Aziraphale and Anthony would stay princes their whole lives, at least Aziraphale would have a friend, unless Anthony got married off, and Aziraphale very selfishly hoped he would never marry, lest Aziraphale have to spend his free-time with his wife. Regardless, Aziraphale fell asleep eventually, even if only for an hour or two.  
Breakfast was as usual as ever, Aziraphale silently ate toast and occasionally bumped his knee into Anthony’s when Beelzebub said something he found funny, or just when he felt like it (which was more common, because Beelzebub rarely said anything funny, at least not on purpose). When Beelzebub was finished eating and Aziraphale was still on his third slice of toast, he felt the black nails of his fiance dig into his arm and drag him from the table. Anthony laughed and nodded as Aziraphale mouthed “Library?” before he was pulled from the dining room and down the cold hallway.  
“How are you enjoying your stay?” Beelzebub asked, and Aziraphale realized this was the first time she had really asked him a personal question.  
“It’s nice. The view from the library’s balcony is breathtaking,” he thought about how he could get away as soon as possible to go meet up with Anthony.  
“I don’t go up there, I wouldn’t know.”  
“Really? Why?”  
“Mom fell off when I was five,” Beelzebub said, all-too casually.   
“I am so sorry,” a pang of guilt shot through Aziraphale, as he remembered Anthony mentioning the ‘not pretty’ sight of someone who had fallen off the balcony, and he hadn’t asked who’d fallen.  
“It’s fine, she was a bitch anyway.” Aziraphale gasped, he couldn’t even fathom the idea of calling his mother or father anything like that.  
“If it makes you feel any better, my father died last year. Asasination,” Aziraphale very vividly remembered the night his father died. It was Aziraphale’s sixteenth birthday, it was a tradition for the birthday boy (or girl, for Michael) to sit in the king’s seat, and Aziraphale was enjoying his eighteenth time in The Seat, as he had snuck onto it twice on days other than his birthday. Tonight was the first time he was allowed to try wine, even if he had snuck sips of his siblings’ in previous years, before spitting into the drinks because they deserve it.  
Aziraphale took a sip of his wine, the table clinked their glasses with the person next to them, Michael with their father, as he was sitting in Aziraphale’s seat tonight, the king took a long sip of his wine while Aziraphale got the first piece of dinner. Everyone was laughing about Gabriel accidentally flinging a fork full of chicken into his wine when the king choked on something.  
Everyone dropped their silverware with a loud clang when they hit their porcelain plates, Aziraphale’s father was foaming from the mouth after drinking from what was normally Aziraphale’s glass. Everyone else’s wine was perfectly safe, they later found out that poison had been rubbed on the rim of the glass.   
Aziraphale remembered running out of the dining room as it’s perfect ivory floors were coated in blood from the king’s eyes and nose. He could remember sitting in his room sobbing so hard his nose bled onto his perfect white pillow, thinking the poisoned glass was for him, although who would want to kill the youngest prince, he didn’t know, and probably never would.

“Ah yes, I recall the funeral, my condolences,” Beelzebub interrupted Aziraphale’s thoughts just as he was about to burst into tears.  
“My siblings say it’s my fault. They haven’t been the same since then,” Aziraphale did not want to confide in Beelzebub, but she was the only thing nearby with ears.  
“How the hell could it be your fault?”  
“He drank wine from my glass, Gabriel says he wished I had born a day earlier so I would drink it.”  
“What does your birthda-” Beelzebub cut herself off (first time for everything) when she realized, “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright,” Aziraphale looked down at his white jacket, “Could you walk me to the library? I’m afraid I don’t remember how to get there, and I think I would like to read at the moment.” Aziraphale was very tired of this conversation, it was the most conversation he had had with his fiance, and now he was glad he hadn’t spoken to her sooner.  
“Of course, love,” Beelzebub said, and with that she began her endless buzzing as she walked Aziraphale down the skinny hallway, at one point she began to hold his hand, once again digging into his pale skin. “Here we are,” the princess stood on her tip-toes and planted a very dry-lipped kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek.  
“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale smiled and began to walk up the tiny spiral staircase, all the stairs in the castle had little grooves in them from over a century of everyday use, except this staircase. There were grooves, but definitely not any sign of constant use. Aziraphale made a bee-line for the balcony where Anthony was already sitting, reading a brick of a book. “BOO!” Aziraphale yelled, Anthony only looked up.  
“You’re not very scary you know,” Aziraphale frowned, “And anyone can see you from a mile away in all that white with your blonde hair. You look like you should have seven wings and a big flaming sword in that get-up.”  
“Well, I’ll have you know I blend in very well at home, Anthony,” Aziraphale said, very matter-of-factly as he sat down next to the other prince.  
“Crowley.”  
“What?”  
“My friends call me Crowley,” Anthony deadpanned.  
“Are we friends now?”  
“You saw me in a dress, anyone that sees me in a dress is my friend,” Crowley said, and pulled his red hair from it’s braid.  
“Well I also saw you try to get out of the dress,” Aziraphale reminded him.  
“Yeah I normally save that for special friends.”  
“I don’t know if I want to hear about that right now.”  
“You don’t. Would ruin your princely little ears,” Crowley stuck his tongue out.  
“Don’t go fathering any bastards, they might rise up and take the throne when I push Beelzebub off this balcony,” Aziraphale was not very aware that he said that until Crowley laughed and threw his head back.  
“Bastards aren’t really a problem for me,” Crowley joked, “I mean, maybe a few times.”  
“Oh,” Aziraphale blushed as Crowley slapped him on the back, laughing harder.  
“If you and Beelzebub have any kids, God I have no idea what they would look like,” Crowley laughed, “They’ll have greasy blonde hair and black eyes.”  
“They’ll be short,” Aziraphale supplied.  
“Yes they will be. I don’t even think Beelzebub could give birth! She’s got too much of a stick up her ass. No fun, that one.” Aziraphale looked taken aback, before letting out a belly-laugh.  
“No offence but I’m not sure I want to even kiss your sister, let alone have children with her,” Azirpahle knew Crowley wouldn’t take offense.  
“Listen I’ve seen her kissing servants, she might kill you,” Crowley had not taken offense.  
“Good God I wish. I don’t think I want my first kiss to be on those dry lips, or my last one I suppose.”  
“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Crowley sounded genuinely surprised.  
“No, should I have?”  
“I mean you’re handsome, and a prince! The ladies swarm for that,” Crowley was met with silence from Aziraphale, “The boys do too, in my own personal experience.”  
Aziraphale blushed quietly “Is this flirting?” he thought, panicking a little, he was also maybe a little excited, he had never been flirted with before.  
“I had my first kiss at a birthday festival, so maybe tomorrow is your lucky night,” Crowley said after a second of awkward silence, laying down on the ground.  
“What was his name?” Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from asking, and blushed a bit more furiously, hopefully not noticeable by Crowley (it was).  
“James, he was blonde, like you. Very handsome,” Crowley bit his lip.  
“That’s nice.”  
“We had been dating for like a week, but he didn’t know who I was until my fifteenth birthday. Well we weren’t really dating, per say but I told him I liked boys and he told me he did too and on my birthday one thing led to another, you know.”  
“Oh, well, that’s a bit young for that.”  
“For a little kiss?” Crowley sat up a bit.  
“No I mean,” Aziraphale paused.  
“Oh! No we didn’t do any of that, we were together for over a year until that happened.”  
“Oh, alright. Are you two still together, or?”  
“No,” Crowley layed back down and shook his head, “No he disappeared maybe two months ago. Beelzebub, uh. Well Beelzebub came into my room without knocking and I haven’t seen ‘im since.”   
“Very sorry to hear about that,” was all Aziraphale knew to say. “Well now I know Crowley likes boys,” he thought, “And I’m a boy. And he got undressed in front of me. And I’m getting married.” Aziraphale sighed.  
“Yeah, he called me his gay boy. Said that I made him happy. I called him my gay boy, he made me very happy. So we just kinda started using ‘gay’ like secret code. Ya know?” Crowley played with a strand of his red hair.  
“That’s cute.”  
“Yeah, we’d go into town and see other people like us, and say ‘they look gay’, if you want I can tell you all about who’s gay and who’s not. So you don’t go flirting with the wrong person.”  
“I shouldn’t be flirting with anyone,” Aziraphale said, and thought, “especially not you.”  
“Oh right marriage. Well you should flirt with someone before you’re tied down,” Crowley said, “Well try to kiss someone other than my sister at least. Don’t even have to know their name.”  
“Maybe I will.”  
“If ya bring em back to the castle I can show you all the secret passages so you don’t get bothered,” Crowley winked.  
“You have secret passages?”  
“You don’t?” Crowley scoffed.  
“Maybe nobody has ever told me about them.”  
“That’s why they’re a secret,” Crowley laughed at Aziraphale and stood up, extending his hand, “Come on, I’ll show you.” Aziraphale took the redhead’s hand, “much nicer than Beelzebub,” he thought as Crowley hoisted him to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no kisses yet sowwy (not really) i guess you'll have to wait for next chapter to see what happens in the secret passages ;/


	5. five (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley learns about the many things Aziraphale has never done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lotsa dialogue and im a big sucker for the trope of aziraphale loving crowley's eyes

Crowley tugged on Aziraphale’s hand and pulled the prince to his feet, and neither of them let go for a second. Crowley, not wanting to seem like he was trying to flirt with Aziraphale, let go first to pick up the book he had been reading when Aziraphale arrived, and both boys sighed in relief. Crowley returned the book to its place on a very recently dusted shelf and walked down the stairs with Aziraphale, his boots perfectly fitting into the stair’s grooves, while the other prince followed close behind, complaining about how thin all the halls of the castle tended to be.  
“Wait till you get in the walls, that’s where it gets thin,” Crowley assured him.  
“Well thin hallways are probably not a problem for you. You look like a regular person got stretched out, if we didn’t eat together I wouldn’t be certain you ate all your food,” Aziraphale chided.  
“Who’s to say I don’t give it to the hounds?”  
“There aren’t hounds here.”  
“Yes there is. You just have to know where they are. Normally in the kitchens I hear,” Crowley stopped in front of a tapestry of a white figure wrapped up by a large black snake.  
“Why are we stopping?”  
“Tunnel,” Crowley stepped behind the tapestry and suddenly his legs disappeared and the wall went flat, “If a tapestry has a snake, there’s a tunnel behind it.” Crowley crawled through the tunnel, very unbecoming of a royal to do, but he did plenty of other things not so becoming of a royal.   
“Are all the passages crawl spaces?” Aziraphale asked behind him.  
“No, this is just the entrance,” perfect timing, Crowley had reached where the tunnels became long, snakelike passages only lit by one torch every fifty feet. He awkwardly turned around so he could put his feet down first instead of face-planing into the stone (as he had done the first few times in the passages). He was soon followed by Aziraphale, who would have fallen face first into the stone had Crowley not caught him.  
“Thank you, dear,” the blonde muttered, blushing in the torch light.  
“No problem, I’ve done that,” Crowley realized it was very easy to pick out Aziraphale in the dark. Dressed in all white, with his silver buttons and golden pinky finger ring, his hair was so blonde it almost reflected the light of the torches like his big, round eyes did.  
“I can hardly see you,” Aziraphale said.  
“Well I can see you, in all that white. You’re practically glowing.” Crowley tugged his hair into a ponytail as he began to walk forward.  
“Have you always had earrings?” Aziraphale asked behind him, “They’re shining.”  
“Yeah, James did em for me, the old needle and apple core method.”  
“Did it hurt?”  
“Not terribly, I could do yours if you want, you could match Beelzebub at the wedding,” Crowley laughed at the thought ofAziraphale in big dangly earrings, maybe just a stud on one side could look nice.  
The boys walked in silence for a few minutes before reaching the epicenter of all the tunnels, a big, decently lit room with carvings along the stone walls, mostly hearts like you would see on a big oak in the woods. “Bee and Luke,” Aziraphale read from a wall, “Seems I’m not the only man in my fiance’s life,” Aziraphale laughed.  
“I told you that you aren’t, I’ve seen servants in her room. But I remember Luke. Big asshole, haven’t seen Beelzebub using a tunnel since he left,” Crowley said, hopefully he was right. The passages were a special place to Crowley. Private and silent, “I believe Luke’s real name was Lucifer.”  
“Prince Lucifer of Haven?”  
“Yup,” Crowley popped the p sound as Azirpahale laughed. He had a very soft laugh, one Crowley wanted to hear more often. “He came over here for a diplomatic visit and I’m sorry to break it to you but your fiance is,” Crowley paused and lowered his voice, “Impure.”  
“Of course she is!” Aziraphale did not sound surprised or angry, more like somebody had just told him something he already knew, “But so are you!”  
“I’m not the one getting married here, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Crowley leaned on the wall over an “A+J” in a heart, James and Crowley would have never put their full names on anything together, because nobody but them needed to know. They both stood in silence and Crowley slid his back against the smooth wall towards Aziraphale, and they locked eyes. Crowley thought to himself about how casual Aziraphale had been about the whole discussion of his love life.  
“Your eyes are so pretty,” Aziraphale said after an eternity, “They’re so reflective. I’ve never seen anyone with yellow eyes.”  
“Don’t know where they came from. I’m an anomaly, only redhead in the family, only person on the face of the earth with eyes like this, it seems.” Crowley tugged at a loose red curl.  
“Well I like your red hair and your yellow eyes,” Aziraphale tugged at one of his own curls, “Like a fire god in the paintings come to life!”  
“All the paintings of me have black eyes, so I match,” Crowley told the boy who was standing nearly above him, as Crowley had slumped into the wall.  
“That’s awful,”Aziraphale whispered, then to himself and unwittingly to Crowley, he said, “In the wedding portraits you’ll have golden eyes.”  
“I’m not going to be in any wedding portraits.”  
“Oh, you heard that. Well, won’t there be one of the whole family?”  
“I suppose, yeah.”  
“Well then I will demand they keep your eyes. I love them.”  
Crowley very suddenly wished the tunnel epicenter was darker as he felt a blush crawl over his cheeks. Nobody had ever said that to him before. Beelzebub had always told him they looked like snake’s eyes and she would sneak up behind him and hiss in his ear.  
“Your eyes are also pretty,” Crowley remarked, he had seen plenty of people with the same hazel, but not the golden flecks that sat on the white of his eye, nobody had ever had the same warmth behind them and none twinkled like- that.  
“Thank you, dear.”  
“Yeah no problem, angel.” They both stood there and stared for another eternity, in silence except for the clicking of shoes in the room above them and the soft breathing that was maybe a little louder and heavier than usual. If you asked either of the boys about it later they would tell you it was due to the stuffiness of the air in the tunnels, despite the fact that the tunnels had the same air as the castle.  
“They might be looking for us, it feels like we’ve been here hours,” Aziraphale broke the silence.  
“Yeah, let’s go out the kitchens, maybe you can meet the hounds,” Crowley suggested excietley, the kitchens were a long walk from where they stood and he just wanted to be near Aziraphale a little longer.  
“Alright. I’ve never met a hound.”  
“Is there anything you have done?”  
“Not really, although now I think I can technically check holding hands off my list.”  
Crowley, in that moment was very glad he wasn’t facing Aziraphale as his face turned a shade of red very similar to his hair, “Never held hands? Sorry I had to be the first one. My hands are all rough. Spend way too much time climbing walls.”  
“Your hands are fine, Beelzebub held my hand on the way to the library but I wasn’t really holding her hand. She more grabs you, digs into your hand with those awful nails, she could draw blood! I’m not counting what she does as hand-holding.”  
“And what we did was?”  
“Yeah, I suppose it was,” Aziraphale paused nervously, “Unless you didn’t want it to be.”  
“We could hold hands properly now, if you wanted,” Crowley couldn’t believe the words that had just come from his mouth, and before he could process it there was a hand grappling for his in the darkness. A soft, manicured hand that belonged to a very handsome young man with round eyes and blonde hair was reaching for the spindly fingers of Anthony J Crowley. The hands were intertwined for the rest of the walk to the kitchens, but the boys were silent, their hands only dropping when they had to crawl out towards the tapestry (which was of a snake around a large oak tree).  
Crowley whistled loudly and had three large black hounds running towards him, “Aziraphale this is Azazel, Ezra and Raphael,” he grinned as the hound with the red collar, Azazel, licked his face.  
“Hello. Which is which?”  
“Azazel wears a red collar, Ezra wears green and Raphael wears black,” Crowley scratched Ezra’s ears and the hound smiled, as much as a hound could smile. Aziraphale kneeled down nervously and the three hounds surrounded him, sniffing his clothes for a second before Azazel made a noise of what seemed like approval and licked Aziraphale straight up the cheek.  
“Ack,” Aziraphale wiped his face on his sleeve, but he still smiled, “Now I can check meeting a hound off the list of things I’ve done.” Crowley felt something between his legs, and looked down at Ezra who decided to go through him instead of around to head back to the kitchens in search for scraps, Crowley could smell vanilla coming from the kitchen and suddenly remembered this was his last day being sixteen.  
“Come on, I wanna go see my birthday cake. I can smell it,” Crowley sauntered down the hall, with Raphael at his side, Azazel stayed next to Aziraphale.  
“Oh no you don’t,” said a servant as Crowley attempted to push the large oak door of the kitchens open, “You can’t be down here, no peeking.” The servants very often spoke to Crowley like he was a normal person, mostly because he had told them to, and partly because he treated them like normal people.  
“Can you at least tell me what kind of cake?” Crowley widened his yellow eyes and stuck out his lip.  
The servant, Crowley thought maybe her name was Martha, sighed and tucked a black strand of hair back into her bonnet, “Vanilla with strawberries.” Crowley pumped his fist, he loved strawberries, all red and sweet like that, he thanked Martha and walked away, followed shortly by Aziraphale.  
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a strawberry,” the blonde prince said, still trailed by Azazel.  
“Jesus Fucking Christ.”  
“Language.”  
“Yeah sorry. You need to get out more.”  
“It’s too cold for strawberries in Easterngate! We barely get apples,” Aziraphale argued.  
“That is a crime. You can have strawberries tomorrow. Unless you want to go get some right now.”  
“We can’t go in the kitchen.”  
“We don’t need to, we just have to go into the forest. Plenty of strawberries and apples and all that growing there.”  
“Is that allowed?”  
“Yeah,” Crowley lied, and he led Aziraphale to the stables, “You ever ridden a horse?”  
“No,” Aziraphale admitted and looked down at his hands.  
“Lord give me strength. I’ll have to teach you so you don’t embarrass yourself.”  
“Please do, I read that you ride horses at weddings here.”  
“Yeah we do. You can start lessons day after my birthday. Today you can just hitch a ride on Bentley, he’s strong he doesn’t mind two riders.”  
“I assume Bentley is the big black horse I saw you on when I first arrived?”  
“You assume correctly.”  
“Oh good lord,” Aziraphale sighed.  
“You’ll be fine, he’s gentle.”  
They walked and talked about nothing in particular and all Crowley could think about was how Aziraphale actually wanted to be his friend. Aziraphale wanted to hang out with him, Aziraphale trusted him, and Aziraphale held hands with him. Maybe more than friends was alright, but Crowley didn’t want to say that, it could ruin what they had. He had to at least talk to him about it before the wedding, he thought. Maybe he could do it tomorrow night, and if Aziraphale reacted badly he could just say he was too drunk to remember. Yes, that was a very sensible solution in the mind of a soon-to-be seventeen year old.  
Crowley had already put Bentley’s saddle pad on and Crowley went to grab the saddle itself before a stable boy grabbed it for him, “You don’t need to do that milord,” The boy said. Must be new.  
“Yes I do, it’s my horse, and you don’t have to call me ‘milord’ I hate it,” Crowley took the saddle in his skinny arms, “Now shoo.” The boy nodded and scuttled off to another stall.  
“You don’t have to be so curt,” Aziraphale scolded.  
“Well Bentley is my horse, don’t trust anyone else with ‘im,” he paused as he realized he was trusting Aziraphale with Bentley, “except friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thought they would kiss in the tunnels? HA, you fool! will they get brave next chapter? maybe! i don't even know and i'm the author


	6. six (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aziraphale and Crowley head into the woods together and Aziraphale breaks bad news to Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to preface this by saying that im sorry

“Get up here angel, not that difficult,” Crowley said, “Just step up and swing your leg over, one movement.” Aziraphale sighed and awkwardly swung his leg over the large black horse, bracing himself to be bucked off. Crowley turned his head back to look at Aziraphale, “Not that hard was it?”  
“No I suppose not,” Aziraphale admitted, wrapping his arms loosely around Crowley’s thin waist.  
“Hold on tight!” Crowley squeezed his legs together and they slowly trotted down the dirt floor of the stable, speeding up the second they left the open doors, and Aziraphale clung on for dear life as the wind whipped his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his stomach drop as Bentley’s feet left the ground at the edge of the pasture, and he could hear people yelling after them. Crowley made a rude gesture at them and kept going, laughing like a maniac.  
“Crowley! Slow down!” The horse slowed to a walk and Aziraphale opened his eyes and sheepishly loosened his grip on Crowley’s waist. Aziraphale looked at the big open sky above them, it had never been so open to him before, Easterngate was surrounded by snow-capped mountains and there were often clouds in the sky, breathing out, the blonde prince looked at the trees ahead of them, the sun shining down through their leaves like golden spotlights on the almost comically green grass.  
“I come out here all the time,” Crowley said, as his red hair swayed back and forth with the gait of Bentley.  
“I can see why. It’s gorgeous,” Aziraphale heard the sound of a stream somewhere nearby, getting closer as they passed an eerily perfect circle of red mushrooms, carefully stepping over patches of flowers. At the slow pace, Aziraphale really didn’t feel the need to keep his hands around Crowley, but they both enjoyed it for a few more minutes before they reached a stream that fed into a small pond, and dismounted.  
Aziraphale laid on his stomach with his face nearly in the pond, staring at a robin pecking at the ground, while Crowley went to tie Bentley to an apple tree. Crowley padded over to Aziraphale, who sat up and crossed his legs, Crowley did the same.  
“Are you bare-foot?” Aziraphale said.  
“Yes I am, the grass is so soft here, love it,” he replied, and bit into a strawberry he had just picked, “Want a strawberry? Little bush over there. Aziraphale took the small fruit in his hand and took a tiny bite of it, before shoving the whole thing in his mouth.  
“Mmmm!” He smiled and reached for the strawberries in Crowley’s hand.  
“Don’t eat the stem, you weirdo.”  
“Why not?”Aziraphale began to panic, “Is it poisonous?”  
“No, it’s just weird. Nobody eats the stem.”  
“Oh,” Aziraphale ate another strawberry, discarding the stem.  
“There you go,” Crowley lightly applauded, and they sat in not quite a silence, as they were near running water and birds chirped nearby and the wind rustled the leaves above, but they weren’t speaking. Just enjoying each other’s company, and the strawberries until the light grew dim and the wind turned cold.  
“We should probably be getting back,” Crowley said, tugging on his boots. Aziraphale frowned but stood up and started to walk towards Bentley.  
“We should do this more often,” Aziraphale suggested as he swept a leg, slightly more gracefully, over the horse and wrapped his arms around his friend.  
“Yeah, definitely. I’ll give you riding lessons out here. I’ll teach you how to get on the horse on the way over and then we can work on fancy stuff here.”  
“Why not just do it in the pasture?”  
“It’s more private out here,” Crowley paused and Aziraphale lingered on his word choice, “So you don’t embarrass yourself.”  
“Can we run back to the castle instead of walking?”  
“It’s not called running on a horse, it’s a gallop,” before Aziraphale could correct himself they were already speeding back towards the stable, Aziraphale had seriously over-estimated his bravery and buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck with his eyes firmly shut. After only a few minutes Aziraphale’s feet were on the dirt ground of the stable, and Crowley was taking Bentley’s tack off and brushing his glossy black coat.  
Crowley lectured Aziraphale on how to act around the horse as he brushed, never walk behind them, brush like this, etcetera. Aziraphale listened intently because, if he was honest, he was rather terrified of the horses and what they could do to someone. Crowley was in the middle of telling the story of how a guard named Dagon had her face kicked in by a horse when they were interrupted.  
“Aziraphale!” Aziraphale jumped at the voice of Beelzebub, “Anthony.”  
“Hello, dear. Anthony and I just got back,” Aziraphale told her.  
“We’ve been looking for you,” she dug her fingers into Aziraphale’s hand and dragged him away, squeezing so hard Aziraphale was worried he would be crippled, “You should be careful with him. Old tempter.”  
“Oh I like Anthony, he’s sweet,” Aziraphale tried to tug his hand away.  
“That’s the problem,” Beelzebub lowered her voice and dragged him a bit faster, Lord she could walk fast on those tiny legs, “He likes men.” Aziraphale feigned a gasp. “I know, it’s awful. Caught him with some nasty peasant boy couple months ago.”  
“How awful,” Aziraphale did not like where this conversation was heading.  
“His name was Jamison or something, his sister worked in the kitchens, Martha I think her name was, I told her about what I saw and the next day she said her parents had taken care of it.” Horror washed over Aziraphale, he bit his tongue. “Anthony got pretty depressed after that, and he perked up when you showed up. I think he’s trying to seduce you.” Beelzebub tightened her grip on Aziraphale’s hand.  
“He wouldn’t do that, he’s my friend.”  
“Oh yes he would,” Beelzebub let go of Aziraphale’s hand and stopped to face him, “If he does anything, tell me.”  
“Of course I will, dear,” Aziraphale’s voice trembled.  
“Thank you, love,” Beelzebub stood on her tip-toes and kiss Aziraphale’s cheek, but this time he didn’t mind as much, because Azazel had licked that same cheek earlier, he was just a little satisfied, even if nobody but him would know.  
Aziraphale yawned dramatically, “Could you ask the servants to bring dinner to my room? I’m exhausted.  
“Yes. I understand, Anthony is tiring to be around.”  
“Yes, he is,” Aziraphale said as they entered the castle. Beelzebub walked down the hall and Aziraphale found a tapestry of a snake and crawled behind it. It was only in the tunnels Aziraphale had no idea how to navigate in there, but he somehow found a way to the epicenter. He sat on the dusty floor beneath a carved heart with faded initials and groaned.  
“Today was going so good!” he shouted, and it echoed back, and he grumbled loudly.  
“Aziraphale?” The blonde jumped and turned around, of course it was Crowley. Great timing.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale sounded a bit too happy to hear his friend’s voice, “Beelzebub told me about you, squeeze my hand really hard.” Crowley approached and took Aziraphale’s hand in his, looking at the red marks in his flesh. Crowley brought Aziraphale’s hand close to his face and kissed his knuckles lightly.  
“What did she say?” he asked.  
“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale was more focused on keeping himself from turning into a strawberry than on Crowley.  
“Beelzebub. What did she say about me?”  
“Oh! She told me you’re trying to seduce me, and to stay away from you.”  
“Is that so?” Crowley moved ever so slightly closer, his golden eyes pouring into Aziraphale, who didn’t know if he wanted to step back or step closer. Crowley made the decision for him, stepping closer, and Aziraphale pressed himself into the wall. “You know I meant what I said earlier when I told you you’re handsome.”  
“Is that so?” Aziraphale gained a sliver of confidence.  
“Yeah,” Crowley moved half a step closer, because if he had moved a full step, he would have been inside the wall, “I also think your first kiss shouldn’t be Beelzebub.”  
“Any ideas who it should be then?” Aziraphale was redder than a strawberry at this point, but when Aziraphale asked the question Crowley’s ears went bright red and his cheeks flushed.  
“No, not really,” Crowley pressed a hand to the wall beneath Aziraphale’s arm on either side, trapping him, and Aziraphale once again wasn’t sure what to do. They stood in silence for a second or it could have been an hour, until Aziraphale opened his mouth.  
“What if someone finds us?”  
“Nobody ever comes in here,” Crowley assured.  
“But how do you know?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked, “Beelzebub- mentioned James.” Crowley backed away slightly, leaving Aziraphale cold with the new lack of extra body heat, “She told me that he had a sister here who’s a servant. Beelzebub told me that she told Jame’s sister about what she saw and then the servant told her their parents had ‘taken care of it’.” Crowley covered his mouth with his long fingers and Aziraphale very suddenly wished he hadn’t said that.  
“I thought he just got scared away,” Crowley whispered, and hunched over  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you,” Aziraphale moved towards Crowley, placing a soft kiss on his red hair.  
“No, no I’m glad you told me, now I know he didn’t just,” Crowley held back a sob, “leave me.”  
“I don’t think anyone would ever leave you, dear,” Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a hug, and the boy broke down into sobs so hard no sound came out, “Let’s get you back to your room. You need rest.” Crowley nodded and led the way down the hall, holding Aziraphale’s hand, squeezing it softly every now and then until they reached the crawl space. Crowley, as always, went first and was shortly followed by Aziraphale, they hopped out into the hall, just across from Crowley’s bedchamber.  
Crowley opened the door and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, dragging him inside and onto his four-poster bed, he let go of Aziraphale’s hand and slithered under the covers to cry. Aziraphale moved to get up before he realized he had just told Crowley nobody would leave him, so he instead moved closer to the sobbing heap of pillows and sat there in quiet support, with a hand on the blanket lump, in an attempt to comfort his friend.

Eventually, the crying subsided and Aziraphale lifted the blankets to find a sleeping Crowley, not wanting to be creepy, he got up and walked over the messy room to the desk where a piece of parchment sat with something scribbled on it. Lord, he has awful handwriting, Aziraphale thought as he looked closer at the parchment, it only had one word that had not been crossed out; “Aziraphale” at the top. There was more to it, but it had all been blotted out in black ink. Aziraphale shook his head and found another piece of parchment and took a large green quill in hand.  
“Crowley- I will be in my bedchamber if you need me when you wake up ~Aziraphale” he wrote, and placed the note on the oak table beside the bed, and left to his bedchamber, as promised, where dinner had been delivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay to stare deeply into another boy's eyes in a secret tunnel (comments and kudos are vv appreciated theyre what keep me motivated)


	7. seven (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley turns seventeen and the boys enjoy some normal life before the lavish birthday ball

Crowley woke up to dried snot clogging his nose and salty cheeks, with the sun shining right in his eyes, he rubbed the sand from his eyes as he sat up. Still in yesterday’s clothes. Crowley stumbled out of bed, realizing he was also wearing yesterday’s shoes, which he promptly took off, followed by the rest of his clothes so he could put on clean, new clothes that weren’t wrinkled to death by a restless sleeper.  
Once in new clothes he walked to the bathroom to wash his face, and cringed at the sight of his own hair in the mirror, normally he would braid it before bed, now it was like a bird had decided that a prince’s head was a wonderful place to lay eggs, so he grabbed his hair brush and got to work.  
Getting ready normally took Crowley ten minutes, today it had taken him half an hour, and breakfast was probably over at this point. Crowley went to sit on his bed, exhausted from the sheer effort of leave it, and noticed a note on the table beside it, in perfect, curly handwriting the parchment read “Crowley- I will be in my bedchamber if you need me when you wake up ~Aziraphale” Crowley didn’t have to read the signature. Nobody else here called him Crowley, nobody else here would have handwriting that nice, and nobody here would offer to take care of Crowley. Pulling his hair into it’s normal braid, Crowley clonked down the hall in his boots to Aziraphale’s bedchamber, knocking before he entered the room.  
“Crowley! Happy birthday!” Aziraphale jumped from his chair, where he had been reading a book about Greek Myths, and wrapped his arms around Crowley.  
“Thank you, angel.”  
“You missed breakfast,” Aziraphale frowned, “Left me all alone with your sister and your father.”  
“Sorry about that. I was just sleeping off last night,” Crowley said, his friend was acting like last night hadn’t happened.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Aziraphale offered and Crowley shook his head, “Alright. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, dear.”  
“Let’s go to the festival, come on,” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and led him to the window, which was already opened a crack to let the warm summer air inside.  
“I am not going out the window,” Aziraphale crossed his arms.  
“It’s fine, I do it all the time.”  
“No.”  
“I will go down first and I will catch you if you fall, it’s only two stories,” Crowley assured, he was strong, and he had done it before with other people. Aziraphale considered this for a moment.  
“Fine. But I will not ruin these clothes, I’m going to change.”  
“I don’t think you have anything that will fit in at the festival,” Crowley said before he saw Aziraphale pull out a slightly ratty blue top and gray pants that were black at one point, but now had a few holes in them.  
“Since when do you have common clothes?” Crowley exclaimed.  
“My dear, you act like I never leave the house,” Aziraphale said from the bathroom where he was changing.  
“So you’d never eaten a strawberry until yesterday but you have snuck out of the castle,” Crowley put his hands on his hips, this was getting ridiculous.  
“Just once, but I’ve had the clothes for a while. I always planned on making a miraculous escape into the countryside.”  
“When did you sneak out?”  
“Well not out, per say, I snuck away from the guards while I was in town to buy these clothes,” Aziraphale stepped out of the bathroom, beaming.  
“And why were you planning a ‘miraculous escape’?” Crowley looked him up and down, he looked very strange in clothes other than his propper little silver ruffles.  
“Because my family hates me, you fool.”  
“Oh yeah, well,” Crowley swung a foot out of the window, “Let’s go then.” Crowley climbed down the ivy, locking his feet into the spots he had been locking his feet into for a decade, while Aziraphale hung over the side of the window with furrowed brows, and swung his leg over the windowsill.  
“There you go, find footholds, make sure you’re hangin’ on tight,” Crowley encouraged.  
“I hardly think I can hang on any tighter.” Crowley laughed and reached his hands out to let Aziraphale know he was ready to catch if need be. But, the young prince safely made his way to the grass below, grabbing Crowley’s hand. Crowley liked this new hand-holding thing, it was nice.  
They did their normal walking and talking about nothing in particular around the castle and went out through the garden, Aziraphale tried to pick a rose but he forgot they had thorned and bled on the yellow roses, turning their petals red at the tips. Crowley kissed the cut “better” even though only a few drops were spilled.  
“So many things to add to my list of firsts today and it’s hardly time for lunch,” Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s hand, much to his disappointment, but he knew that two boys holding hands wouldn’t fly here so he dropped it.  
“Speaking of which I’m starving,” Crowley complained and led Aziraphale over to a small bakery, “Morning Ms.Young,” he said to the woman behind the counter while the door’s bell rang.  
“Morning Crowley,” she chirped, “You just missed the kids.”  
“Well I actually came here for food, missed breakfast. Can I get three slices of your cinnamon bread?”  
“Of course, sweetie,” Ms.Young collected his request and he pressed some coins into her hand, “Have a nice day!”  
“You too, dear,” she called after them as Crowley handed one slice of bread to Aziraphale, and kept the other two for himself.  
“Who was that?” Aziraphale asked after he finished his bread slice.  
“Ms.Young, her kids are all sweet, got four of em, all adopted,” Crowley said through a mouthful of cinnamon bread.  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. How old are her children?”  
“I think they’re all around fifteen, we’ll find them at some point. Anyways, Ms.Young makes an amazing cinnamon bread, doesn’t she?”  
“Oh yes, absolutely scrummy.”  
“I would thank you kindly to never say that word again,” Crowley laughed.  
“Scrummy,” Aziraphale deadpanned, making his companion sigh and slouch his shoulders.  
“I hate you.”  
“I hate you too, dear,” Aziraphale smiled.  
“Ngk,” said Crowley, and he walked towards a fabric stand.

Hours later Crowley and Aziraphale were getting ready to head back when Crowley felt a mass on his back, Brian Young spoke into his ear, “Crowley has a friend, I see.”  
“Arugh, geroff you little bastard,” Crowley grinned and turned quickly to the Young children, Brian hopped onto the ground to join his siblings but before he could Crowley grabbed him by the coat and ruffled his dark hair.  
“Crowley don’t do that, he’s a child,” Aziraphale chided, earning a snort from Pepper.  
“Who are you?” Adam asked, although more to Crowley than Aziraphale. Aziraphale crossed his arms at the boy.  
“I’m Aziraphale,” he stuck his hand out to shake.  
“Adam Young.”  
“Brian.”  
“Pepper.”  
“I’m Wensleydale, nice to meet you Aziraphale,” the youngest of the children shook Aziraphale’s hand.  
“Nice to meet you all, Crowley has told me about you.”  
“No I haven’t.”  
“You told me that they’re all adopted and that they’re sweet.”  
“Don’t say that in front of them! You just ruined my reputation,” Crowley said.  
“Anyway, it was lovely meeting you all but we have to get ready for Crowley’s birthday party,” Aziraphale told the children.  
“This is his birthday party,” Pepper said.  
“No, I have an actual party to go to. Diplomats and all that. You wouldn’t like it,” Crowley replied, and that was true, he hated birthday parties in the castle, getting shoved into a nice suit and forced to talk to big important men.  
“Well come to the tavern afterwards, bring your little friend,” Adam instructed, pointing at Aziraphale.  
“Will do,” Crowley nodded and took Aziraphale’s hand, “Come on, angel.”  
“Ooooo,” Pepper and Brian sang.  
“Come on angel,” Adam mocked, “Let’s go make out.” Crowley grumbled and let go of Aziraphale’s hand, walking away a bit faster with warm cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yellow roses with red tips is a symbol of friendship turning into something more, by the way. also adam and brian are 15, pepper is 16 and wensleydale is 14


	8. eight (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Aziraphale can't dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he he he

Crowley hoisted Aziraphale through the window with surprising strength, laughing when Aziraphale tripped over the sill.  
“Prince Anthony!” someone called from the hall.  
“Shit!” Crowley ran out of the room to the voice and Aziraphale began to dress for the party. Mostly tan on white and blue, as usual, but there were more ruffles, and more shiny buttons on his long tan coat, then he had to tame his hair. Normally, Aziraphale would just let his curls do as they pleased, but they wanted to be sticking up in strange directions tonight, and that wasn’t going to work. Aziraphale fretted over his hair for maybe twenty minutes before he sighed and looked to the clock, six fifty-six, the prince grumbled and left the room, shiny shoes clicking on the stone floor as he walked past the tapestries.  
“There you are, love,” Beelzebub put a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder.  
“Hello, dear, you look wonderful,” Aziraphale said, turning. The comment was genuine, Beelzebub wore a long deep red ball gown covered in shining black lace, her black hair framed her gaunt face, a face with more color than usual and she smiled warmly.  
“Thank you, so do you,” Beelzebub held Aziraphale’s arm, “Shall we?” Aziraphale nodded and they walked towards where they had eaten dinner on Aziraphale’s first night there. The tall ceilings were hung with red silk, the only lights in the room were from the setting sun through stained glass windows as the candles that sat on the tables lining the side of the room. The guests in the room were much more colorful than usual, and Aziraphale saw the table where his family sat, his heart sinking when he realized they would be here for the next month and he would be able to run off with Crowley less.  
“Zira!” Gabriel called from the table, oh lord.  
“I see an old friend, go catch up with your family,” Beelzebub said, presenting her cheek to Aziraphale, he lightly kissed her cheek and waved goodbye then walked slowly to the table of white and blue.  
“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted.  
“Hello, Aziraphale,” his mother stood up and kissed both his cheeks, “How are you, dear?”  
“Wonderful, I’m getting along well with the Crowleys,” he told them.  
“That’s good, still don’t want to marry Beelzebub?” Gabriel put his square head in his hand.  
“Not really, I see her as more of a friend,” Aziraphale lied, he didn’t want to marry Beelzebub or be her friend.  
“That is a shame,” Gabriel said absentmindedly, “Have you met Anthony?”  
“Yes, actually.”  
“Prick, isn’t he?” Michael cut in.  
“I will have you know that Anthony is actually very kind, he is my friend and it is his birthday, have a little respect,” Aziraphale crossed his arms and Gabriel laughed.  
“I still think he pushed his mom off that balcony,” Sandalphon whispered to Gabriel.  
“Excuse me?” Aziraphale spat, but before Sandalphon could say it louder a trumpet sounded and the hall was silent except for the soft piano that sat in the corner of the hall.  
“Presenting Prince Anthony James Crowley of Eden, first of his name,” the same man who had presented Aziraphale when he arrived shouted, the people of the hall clapped, and Aziraphale made eye contact with his friend, while his siblings scarcely clapped. Crowley was wearing all black, save the white shirt beneath his layers of coats, a golden chain sat on his chest, the same gold of his earrings that hid from his loose red curls, the same gold of his eyes. Aziraphale felt himself go red as Crowley looked him up and down and grinned.  
“Happy birthday Anthony,” Aziraphale chirped as the prince made his way over to them.  
“Hey Aziraphale,” Crowley hugged the blonde and grinned at his family.  
“We were just talking about you,” Aziraphale sat down at the table, motioning for Crowley to sit in the empty seat meant for Beelzebub, who was off at the table of Haven royalty, digging her claws into Lucifer’s poor wife.  
“Were you?” Crowley raised an eyebrow and bumped his knee against Aziraphale’s as he sat down.  
“Yes, Michael was just talking about how much of a prick you are,” Gabriel said.  
“Oh really? At my own birthday party?” Crowley gasped theatrically, gripping his chest.  
“Boys,” Aziraphale’s mother scolded, “be respectful.”  
“Apologies, mother,” Gabriel glared at Crowley and Aziraphale, which prompted Crowley to stick his tongue out.  
“You are in Beelzebub’s place at the table, Anthony,” Sandalphon sneered.  
“It’s my birthday in my castle in my country,” Crowley wrinkled his nose, “She’s too busy fraternizing to notice, anyways,” he jerked his head back at the Haven table, where Beelzebub was practically in Lucifer’s lap.  
“All right, Crowley, maybe we should go,” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s beneath the table. Crowley grumbled but got up, Aziraphale silently thanked God. Aziraphale followed Crowley to the long table at the head of the hall, Crowley sat to his father’s right, Aziraphale to his left. Beelzebub joined Aziraphale on his left and Dukes Hastur and Ligur sat to the king’s left. The hall went silent again as the king made a toast to Crowley, but Aziraphale wasn’t really listening, more focused on the hand holding his beneath the table that didn’t have fingernails that dug into his flesh.  
“The happiest of birthdays to you, son,” the king finished and sat down, the people of the hall clinked glasses together and drank. Aziraphale let go of the hand beneath the table to eat the food that had been placed in front of him as everyone began to buzz loudly. Aziraphale gathered that this party was about Crowley in the sense that everyone wanted to see him and confirm their gossip about the prince.   
Beelzebub was strangely quiet, maybe being respectful, but she often tapped Aziraphale’s thigh under the table to bring him down from the conversation he was having from Crowley about whatever it was they were talking about.  
As dinner ended and servants cleared away the plates, Aziraphale and Crowley were both a bit tipsy as they moved about the hall, separately, but always in view of the other. Aziraphale had met plenty of the diplomats here already, mostly when he was younger or at his father’s funeral, and older women kept commenting on how he had grown into a handsome young man who would make Beelzebub a happy woman, he smiled and thanked them politely, wishing it was time for desert so the night could be over.  
Finally time for the cake, the people at the high table received a large slice of vanilla cake topped with strawberries, while everyone else got a smaller slice, and Aziraphale smiled smugly at his siblings while he ate his slice (which was very delicious, strawberries and vanilla was a stroke of genius). The piano in the corner picked up and suddenly there was string instruments, oh good lord, Aziraphale thought, he didn’t dance very well, he could do a waltz and that was about it.  
Beelzebub stood and offered her hand, Aziraphale took it reluctantly and he was led to the dance floor, where Crowley was already dancing with Dutchess Device from lord knows where at this point. Aziraphale was too tired to think about where all these diplomats were from, Beelzebub violently put Aziraphale’s hand on her waist and led him in a waltz, at least that he could do, one two three four, one two three four, one two three- the music picked stopped for a brief moment and Aziraphale found himself bowing to Beelzebub, and then to Duchess Device, who was more of a violent lead in the dance than Beelzebub, if that was possible.   
They kept switching partners and adding more people to the dance and Aziraphale was getting very exhausted, at one point he danced with Sandalphon, because neither him or Gabriel could find anyone to bring to the floor, so they brought each other, which happened often at home, Sandalphon kept stepping on Aziraphale’s toes before he was dancing with Beelzebub again. Thankful to see her black hair for once in his life. Eventually Aziraphale stopped paying attention to the faces of dance partners until he felt a calloused hand hold his own.  
“You really can’t dance, can you?” he teased quietly, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s waist, and his face turned into a strawberry once again.  
“No, I can’t,” Aziraphale smiled, putting his hand on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley pulled him just a little closer.  
“You’re cute when you blush.” If it was possible for Aziraphale’s face to grow any redder it would have. This part of the dance lasted much longer than it had with other partners, but eventually everyone finished their dances and bowed to their partner, and the music stopped. People began to trickle out of the hall with someone on their arm, and Aziraphale followed suit with Beelzebub, who did her usual kiss on the cheek when she dropped Aziraphale in front of his bedchamber.  
Aziraphale changed into his soft white pyjamas and sat down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying desperately to think of anyone but Crowley. He looked at the clock, ten thirty-two, everyone was probably asleep by now, as he should be.  
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” Aziraphale whispered to himself and climbed from his bed and padded out into the hall, where nobody seemed to be lingering. He opened a large oak door to a messy room where Crowley sat at the desk in his black pyjamas, holding a pen, which he dropped in surprise and jumped from his seat.  
“Angel! What the hell?” he hissed, as Aziraphale closed the door.  
“I couldn’t sleep.”  
“So you came to my room.”  
“Yes, if I can’t sleep I would rather not sleep because I’m having a conversation,” Aziraphale prepared to leave before Crowley went to sprawl out on the couch.  
“Alright. I wasn’t going to sleep anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two bros chillin at a dance, five feet apart cause theyre not gay, also idk why but my hands started to shake while i finished this chapter


	9. nine (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale can’t sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> never really written anything like this but i did rip two lines of dialogue from a slightly similar situation that happened to me, and this chapter is also a little shorter than usual sorry :/

Crowley stretched his lanky legs out over his couch, motioning for Aziraphale to sit in the armchair beside him, and he did, hands folded in his lap on top of his pristine pyjamas.  
“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” Aziraphale said softly.  
“Maybe a little,” Crowley played with a strand of his hair.  
“I’m here to listen, don’t talk about what you don’t want to.”  
“It’s just,” Crowley sighed, “I was just starting to accept that James had left, ya know? I just assumed that he was afraid of Beelzebub and he was avoiding me, and now I know he’s gone. It’s almost a relief, knowing it’s not his or my fault. But I feel so shitty for it,” he grabbed fistfulls of his hair in distress.  
“I understand, I really should not have told you.”  
“No I’m so glad you did because I have closure now, maybe James is dead, but maybe he’s off somewhere with somebody he loves that loves him,” Crowley felt a tear fall from his face.  
“I’m certain he is, maybe he’s off on the seas with a handsome pirate captain,” Aziraphale offered, making Crowley laugh a bit.  
“You read that in a book?”  
“Yes, but I do sincerely hope for your sake that he’s off with someone he loves that loves him back.”  
“Thanks, angel,” Crowley sniffed, “You know, after the whole incident I just snuck out every night hoping to find him again, and I’d normally end up with a stand in,” Crowley paused and turned his whole body to look at Aziraphale, “You remind me of him.”  
“I hope that’s a compliment,” Aziraphale chided.  
“It definitely is, you have the same spark in your eyes, but you’re different. In a good way, I like it,” Crowley leaned forward, “The biggest difference between you and him is you can’t dance.”  
“I could probably do it if I wasn’t in a room full of people.”  
“Prove it,” Crowley stood up and took Aziraphale’s hand, pulling him out of the arm chair. Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder, and Crowley’s hand landed on the small of Aziraphale’s back, making him turn a bit red, and Crowley grinned.  
The moonlight shone through Crowley’s window as they waltzed around the room, both humming the same song, a song that either of them knew existed until that moment, Aziraphale was a bit better at dancing without everyone watching him, and Crowley was more graceful than a look at him would suggest. They stopped dancing for a second, and Crowley moved forward just a bit, closing the gap between their bodies, and Aziraphale got a bit more red, before he moved even closer to Crowley, pushing him back slightly, Aziraphale smelled of roses and old books.  
“I kinda wanna kiss you right now,” Crowley said softly, his heart had nestled itself right between his collarbones and felt like it was attempting to break out.  
“Then do it.” Crowley pressed his lips against Aziraphales and moved his hand from holding Aziraphale’s hand, to wrapping it around his back. With his newly free hand, Aziraphale went to Crowey’s chin, holding it softly. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, before Crowley pulled away.  
“Aziraphale we can’t do this,” Crowley pulled his hands away and backed towards his bed.  
“Can’t do what?” Aziraphale frowned and furrowed his brows.  
“We can’t do this,” Crowley gestured vaguely and sat on the bed, “You’re engaged for God’s sake.”  
“You told me I should kiss someone other than Beelzebub,” Aziraphale sounded more confused than angry.  
“Someone you didn’t know, just for fun,” Crowley protested.  
“Well it’s too late. You already kissed me.”  
“Yeah I know, I jus-” Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale grabbing his shoulders and kissing him again. Crowley melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, forcing him closer.  
“I can check that off my list now,” Aziraphale said.  
“Oh good God,” Crowley pressed his hand to his temple.  
“Uh, I should be getting to bed, it’s-it’s late,” Aziraphale looked at the clock, eleven eleven, “Good night.”  
“‘Night, angel,” Crowley sighed and fell backwards into bed, spreading out like a starfish, a creature he had only recently learned about in a book from the library. The prince sluggishly made his way up the bed and threw himself beneath the soft, black covers and fell into a restless sleep, which was not unusual. Almost all of Crowley’s sleeps were restless and he would often wake up with the covers thrown off him and tugged back on again.

Crowley woke up to his bed sheets on the floor and his hair knotted. Damn Aziraphale, Crowley had been too excited to remember to put his hair in a braid before bed, and now he had to spend ten minutes taming it before getting dressed and sauntering down to the dining room to eat, sitting himself down next to Aziraphale, who was eating toast with strawberries.  
Aziraphale bumped his knee against Crowley’s with a knowing smile and pink ears. Crowley bumped his knee back and stole a strawberry from Aziraphale’s plate.  
“Hey!” his companion protested.  
“What? It’s just one,” Crowley replied.  
“There’s a whole bowl right there,” Aziraphale pointed to the bowl of strawberries in the middle of the table.  
“Morning Aziraphale,” Beelzebub said from the doorway, she was late, “Anthony, Father,” Beelzebub’s hair was messier than usual and she was very poorly covering a bruise on her collarbone.  
Crowley knew that was from Lucifer, and felt betrayed for Aziraphale’s sake, until he remembered that Aziraphale had also kissed someone besides his betrothed last night. But at least it was only twice, and Lucifer was a married man. Crowley had nobody to commit to, not anymore.  
“Good morning dear,” Aziraphale said, he didn’t notice Beelzebub’s state, probably paying too much attention to the young man beside him, but he added, “You’re up late.”  
“I couldn’t sleep last night, got sick,” she lied and sat down, Crowley glared at her, telling his sister that he knew what she had done.  
“I noticed you talking to Luke last night,” Crowley commented.  
“Yes, it was very nice to see an old friend,” Beelzebub stabbed her knife into the jam, “Aziraphale, I didn’t get a chance to meet your family last night.”  
“They were tired and tense from the journey it’s probably best that you didn’t,” Aziraphale said.  
“Shouldn’t they be dining with us this morning?” Beelzebub asked, directed more to her father than anyone else.  
“I instructed the servants to bring breakfast to all the visiting diplomats today, all of them save the Yates family are leaving today, they will be joining us for breakfast tomorrow,” the king told her.  
Beside Crowley, the blood drained from Aziraphale’s face, he grabbed his companion’s hand beneath the table and squeezed. Aziraphale returned the gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to write the end of this chapter on my phone, i’m staying with my aunt the next two nights so might have to wait a day or two for another update, sorry


	10. ten (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Aziraphale and Crowley go on their first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aziraphale: wait till marriage to have sex, you Sinner  
beelzebub: i DID, you never said that i had to be married, he was married

After the usual sit at the breakfast table and listen to Beelzebub’s ramblings (which, for once didn’t even touch the topic of the wedding), the Crowley family plus one bade farewell to all the guests of the party, who would all be returning next month for the big wedding, then the birthday and coronation of Beelzebub. Afterwards Aziraphale and Crowley were excited to get horses tacked up to head to their spot for lessons, although Aziraphale didn’t want to learn, because he didn’t want to get married, and that was all he was learning for.  
“This is Missy, she’s gentle,” Crowley introduced Aziraphale to a white horse, definitely smaller than Bentley, but Aziraphale was secretly thankful for that. Bentley was terrifying, towering over everyone in the barn, including the other horses.  
“She’s not the one that kicked Dagon?”  
“No, that was Minnie.”  
“Oh, alright then,” Aziraphale swung his leg over Missy.  
“Good job, now sit up straight, yeah like that. Tits out,” Crowley said, making Aziraphale blush.  
“I don’t have, erm.Tits, dear.”  
Crowley shrugged, “It’s an expression.”  
“Can we just go?” Aziraphale pleaded, Crowley climbed onto Bentley, and began to coach Aziraphale towards the gate. Good lord, there was a back gate this whole time, Crowley hadn’t needed to jump over it.  
“Show off,” Aziraphale said when Crowley jumped the fence, his companion replied by sticking his tongue out and wrinkling his nose.  
They took a slow walk towards the forest, Crowley talking all about how to sit and how to hold the reigns, it was a lot more complicated than he made it look. Missy was a gentle horse, Crowley was right, very well behaved, probably older judging by the white speckled along her dark nose. The boys and their horses found their way to the spot by the pond and the stream, where they had originally planned to practice with the horses, but Missy and Bentley only ended up with their reigns tied to an apple tree.  
Aziraphale sat down next to the pond, and was shortly joined by Crowley and a handful of strawberries. They ate in a slightly uncomfortable silence, watching a dove try to seduce another dove in a flutter of grey feathers and upset cooing. The boys remained this way for maybe ten minutes before Crowley turned to Aziraphale.  
“Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asked, playing with his red braid.  
“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed, relieved his companion brought it up so he didn’t need to.  
“Aziraphale,” Crowley began, “I think you’re really handsome and sweet and I like you and the way you hold my hand. But we can’t have anything. Not a relationship at least.”  
“I know,” Aziraphale muttered and moved his hand toward Crowley’s, “But I also don’t know that I can ignore you. I’m willing to be all secretive and sneak around if it means I don’t need to.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, it’s fun. Sneaking around,” Aziraphale secretly liked this newfound forbidden relationship, it reminded him of the books he would read in the library. Except none of the books had two young men as their subject, and they would also often end with at least one death, he didn’t like the idea of that.  
“Well I have gotten quite good at it,” Crowley gripped his hand, “I can show you all the secret spots. I know all the work schedules so I know nobody will find us.”  
“I’m more worried about Beelzebub,” Aziraphale fretted, he was very good at that.  
“Beelzebub isn’t anything to worry about,” Crowley assured, “We can run off together, take on new identities if you want.”  
“I might like that.”  
“You know I’ve always thought you were handsome, never talked to you before you got engaged to my sister though, maybe I should have.”  
“When did you see me before?  
“My mother’s funeral, and your father’s funeral, your brother’s wedding.”  
“I knew I had seen you before. I don’t like funerals, I think I pushed the memories back in my head.”  
“What about Sandalphon’s wedding?”  
“Pushed that back too, a princess from some other kingdom tried to kiss me and I panicked, ran off.”  
Crowley laughed, “I remember you disappearing halfway through the reception, I was just about to ask you if you wanted to hang out with me. Thought you ran off because you caught me staring at you.”  
“I probably would have still run off if I had seen a handsome prince staring at me,” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley grinned, he had dimples, Aziraphale hadn’t noticed before.  
“Would you run off now?” Crowley inched closer to Aziraphale, he had the tiniest patch of freckles along his nose and cheeks, just two shades darker than his skin. Anyone not looking intently at him probably wouldn’t notice them.  
“Probably not,” Aziraphale leaned forward, “You know I really meant it when I told you I love your eyes. They’re gorgeous.” Crowley leaned closer and closed the gap between their lips. Aziraphale put his hands at the nape of Crowley’s neck, and one of them began untangling his braid.!Crowley had one hand in Aziraphale’s hand, the other was now resting firmly on the small of his back.  
“Sorry,” Crowley said, pulling away after a moment.  
“Don’t apologize, dear,” Aziraphale blushed, “I’ve never kissed anyone else, but you seem good at it.”  
Crowley smiled, pink crawling beneath his freckles, “You are too.” Memories found their way back into Aziraphale’s head, crying over his father’s casket while a strong hand with thin fingers clasped his shoulder, Sandalphon’s wedding when a very scary fourteen year old princess was trying to kiss him, he was twelve at the time, not interested in kissing anyone, even girls. Now, Aziraphale thought about all the romance novels he had read, and how many of them were about a princess rescued by a common man, and how Aziraphale had always seen himself in the role of the princess, strangely.  
Crowley laid his head in Aziraphale’s lap and stretched his long limbs out, both boys studying the face of the other.  
“You have freckles. Did you know?” Aziraphale pointed out.  
“Yeah, they show up in the summer, my mother always said they were angel’s kisses,” Crowley told him. Aziraphale planted a soft kiss on the tip of Crowley’s pointed nose.  
“Since you call me angel,” Aziraphale said softly.  
“You’re an adorable bastard, do you know that?” Crowley laughed.  
They spent the rest of the day like that, in each other’s arms, talking about what the future could possibly hold, the conversation breifly veered towards the murder of Beelzebub, but Crowley re-directed it to just running off.  
They both grumbled when the sun began to head down for the day, realizing they had to go back for dinner, with the Yates as well, just to rub salt on the wound.  
“Anthony, Aziraphale. Nice of you to join us,” Beelzebub drawled from her spot next to Sandalphon’s wife, she was a very quiet woman, hardly noticeable, Aziraphale could hardly remember her name half the time.  
“Sorry, we were out,” Crowley explained.  
“Together?” Gabriel eyed the space, or lack thereof between the young men.  
“Anthony has started teaching me how to ride a horse,” Aziraphale moved an inch or two from his companion.  
“How kind of him,” Michael said, sawing into the poor piece of meat in front of her.  
Aziraphale moved a bit farther from Crowley, nobody in the Yates family was an idiot, and there had been a few cases of men having relations with other men in the kingdom, and Aziraphale often defended them, much to the dismay of his siblings. He didn’t know why he had defended those men until this very moment.   
Dinner was strangely normal Gabriel and Beelzebub both buzzed on about nothing, Michael chiming in on occasion. Aziraphale and Crowley weren’t listening, they were too busy bumping knees beneath the table and stealing each other’s food.  
“You two are quiet,” Sandalphon said, pointing to the young princes.  
“They’re always quiet,” Beelzebub said the word “quiet” like it was a curse word.  
“Boys will be boys,” Sandaphon’s wife said, the first words she had said all night.  
“They aren’t boys anymore,” Michael replied, “They are both seventeen, and Aziraphale is engaged. Speaking of which, Aziraphale are you excited for the wedding?”  
Aziraphale put his fork down, “Yes,” he lied through his teeth, Crowley pinched his leg under the table, and he had to fight to not jump up or laugh.  
“Really?” Crowley asked.  
“Yes, really, Anthony,” Aziraphale looked at his companion, who was leaning back in his seat.  
“Never thought anyone would be excited to marry that,” Crowley pointed to Beelzebub, Aziraphale once again stifled a laugh.  
“Don’t be an ass, Tony!” Beelzebub near-shouted, Sandalphon’s wife shied away from Beelzebub and her large knife.  
“What? Bea, I’m just trying to tell the truth,” Crowley took a sip of his wine. Aziraphale was not having a good time introducing his partner to his family, even if they didn’t know who he was.  
“Everyone please, be quiet,” Aziraphale’s mother pleaded, “And civil,” she added as Beelzebub glared at Crowley.   
The table obeyed and ate in silence for a few moments before Beelzebub began to talk to Michael about wedding dresses, as she was the only girl at the table that could hold up a conversation, and Crowley and Aziraphale went back to bumping legs beneath the table and stealing each other’s food. When dinner was over the young men excused themselves and found their way up to the library to sit on the balcony.  
“Normally, when people are courting, they are polite at family dinner,” Aziraphale said.  
“Courting That was this is?” Crowley replied, not taking his eyes off the setting sun.  
“I suppose so,” Aziraphale shrugged.  
“Isn’t courting what happens before a couple gets married? We can’t get married, you know.”  
“I know, but I wanted a name for whatever this is.”  
“How about a partnership,” Crowley offered.  
“Alright, partnership.”

The next week was probably the best week of Aziraphale’s life, he and Crowley snuck around the castle, stealing glances, holding hands whenever possible, and crawling into the space between walls just to kiss. The only thing that would have made it better was if the castle was empty of family that bothered Aziraphale with diplomatic talk and conversations about his fiance and their wedding. He wasn’t a big fan of that, even if it did make the stolen glances more exciting.  
“Aziraphale!”  
“What?” Aziraphale walked over to his window, where Crowley sat in the sill, in his common clothes, not the dress, the trousers and shirt with flouncing sleeves that showed a bit too much of his chest/  
“We’re going out, get your clothes on,” Crowley said. Aziraphale walked to his bed and rummaged around in the chest at it’s foot for his clothes, he walked into the bathroom to change when Crowley called out, “You don’t have to go in there to change, you know.”  
“I’m embarrassed,” Aziraphale muttered.  
“Why?” Crowley hopped off the windowsill and walked towards the bathroom.  
“Don’t come in here,” Aziraphale told his partner, “I’m soft.”  
“That’s not a bad thing, angel. Who said it was?”  
“Gabriel, he told me I should lose some weight for the wedding.”  
“I’m going to murder him, you know.”  
“Please don’t,” Aziraphale pulled his blue shirt over his head and stepped from the bathroom, grabbing his one shabby pair of boots to tie on. Crowley walked for the window and hopped out, yelling for Aziraphale to follow. Aziraphale was getting better at going in and out of the window, he had done it a few times now, but Crowley still stood at the bottom of the wall, arms outstretched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this chapter, i loved writing it


	11. eleven (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion is had, a proposal is made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda just filler so sorry about that

“Come on, angel,” Crowley said as Aziraphale hopped onto the ground, ruffling his curls. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and gestured for Crowley to lead the way, so he did.  
“Where are we going?”  
“It’s a surprise.”  
“Just tell me.”  
“It wouldn’t be a surprise then, now wouldn’t it?”  
“I suppose not, continue.”  
“You’ll like it, trust me,” Crowley led them through the hedge that surrounded the castle and into town, after a second he realized he was still holding hands with Aziraphale and let go, to the disappointment of both boys. Crowley commanded his way through the crowds with his long stride, occasionally losing track of Aziraphale, but he was easy to spot with that mop of white hair. The boys found themselves at the edge of town, standing in front of the gates, Crowley pressed a coin or three into a guard’s hand and they were led outside.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale whined, maybe a little worried.  
“Angel, we’re almost there,” Crowley replied, Aziraphale grunted and grabbed Crowley’s hand, realising they were alone, save for the trees and a nightingale singing in the distance.  
Crowley stopped at the top of a large hill, it’s surface more wildflowers and moss than grass, just as the sun finished its journey over the horizon and behind the distant mountains of Easterngate. Crowley leaned against an apple tree in the center of the hilltop.  
“And we are here why?” Aziraphale asked.  
“This is where Eden’s land ends, and Easterngate is way over there,” Crowley pointed to the mountains, then stepped past the apple tree, “And this is unclaimed territory. Anything that happens here can never get you in trouble.”  
“So did you take me out here to murder me?”  
“No, I brought you out here so I’m not on my family’s land, and you’re not on yours,” he pulled Aziraphale past the twisted tree trunk, “It’s ours.”  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale brought his partner close in an embrace, nothing more, just an embrace, “We only have two weeks left and then we either have to do something or stop.”   
Crowley tugged his hair from it’s braid and began playing with the ribbon that usually held it in place,“Don’t talk like that, we don’t have to stop being partners.”  
“But we do, I can’t sneak out of my bedchamber anymore because I won’t be the only person in it, and I won’t have any free time I’ll have to go visit places and I’ll have childre-” Crowley cut Aziraphale off with a kiss.  
“We can cross those bridges when we arrive at them, but just for another week can we stay in our little bubble?”  
“No, we have to talk about it, dear,” Aziraphale took the ribbon from Crowley’s hands, tucking it in his pocket.  
“Let’s just, run away,” Crowley felt tears welling up in his eyes.  
“You and I both know we can’t do that.”  
“Earlier you said that you might like it. Angel,” Crowley trailed off.  
“I would like it, I would like it very much. But it’s impossible!”  
“Why?” Crowley moved a step closer to Aziraphale, taking his hands. The young man thought about his answer for a long moment.  
“I have hardly known you for two weeks and I already trust you more than anyone else,” Aziraphale confessed, his hazel eyes staring deep into Crowley, “It scares me. I’m just afraid you’ll leave me behind for someone more dashing.”  
“What?” Crowley could barely imaging leaving Aziraphale at this point, he also trusted him a bit too much for people who hardly knew one another. Like they had known each other lifetimes ago, and their souls had finally met again, determined to intertwine so they would never lose the other. Crowley stepped closer to Aziraphale, “I would never leave you,” he said softly, “You know too much.”  
“What do I know?”  
“You know that I have a soft spot for blonde bookworms, and that I sneak off to that place in the forest all the time, and that I go back up to the library regularly, and that I love kids and that I’d like so-” Aziraphale cut Crowley off with a kiss, revenge for earlier.  
“Anthony James Crowley, will you please just be quiet and do what I know we came here to do,” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley’s shirt that showed a bit too much of his chest.  
“What? No! I just wanted to be alone with you in a new spot. You know?” Crowley didn’t know where the evening was headed but he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.  
“Oh. I’m- so sorry oh good lord,” Aziraphale’s face turned bright red and he buried it in his hands.  
“No it’s fine,” Crowley laughed, he knew he wasn’t ready to go there with Aziraphale yet, “Do you want to?”  
“Maybe! I don’t know, I just assumed that’s what was going to happen and I was getting ready for it and I don’t know if I’m ready.”  
“Angel, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can just keep holding hands and kissing, or just hold hands if you want. I don’t wanna mess this up.”  
“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale said as Crowley sat down. The blonde sat down next to him and moved his hand to intertwine with Crowley’s.  
Aziraphale turned towards Crowley and moved forward, with one hand on Crowley’s chin, and both of Crowley’s hands wrapped around Aziraphale, pulling him as close as possible. Crowley had kissed plenty of people before, male female and inbetween, most of the kisses went farther than that, but this was different.  
This was Aziraphale, this was a proper little prince who was set to marry Crowley’s demonic sister, and was sitting under a tree with Crowley practically straddling him, and hands in his hair. Good lord was this different to what happened in the halls or even in their rooms.   
There was no chance at being caught out here, they were just alone. They could have taken the opportunity alone to go places, but they didn’t. Both of them were very content with that, they could save it for later. In this moment it felt like they could just sit beneath that tree for eternity, in each other’s arms, lit only by the faint moonlight.  
It wasn’t until he found himself with the sun shining in his eyes and arms wrapped around his partner and grass stains on his shirt that Crowley realised they had slept beneath the tree, and were probably missing breakfast.  
“Aziraphale,” Crowley shook the young man awake gently.  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale blinked and sat straight up, “Did we sleep here last night?”  
“I guess so, angel.”  
“Oh good lord, they probably think we died.”  
“Or ran away.”  
“Crowley!”  
“Sorry.”  
“We should probably head back, I have a suit fitting today.”  
“Or we could stay here.”  
“Crowley. Let’s go home and we can discuss this tonight.”  
Crowley begrudgingly got up and started his trip back towards Eden with Aziraphale close behind.  
“Aziraphale!” The young men jumped and dropped their hands as Gabriel approached, “Anthony.” Gabriel said his name in the same way Beelzebub said it, like it was an insult or a curse.  
“Hello Gabriel! Erm, Crowley and I were out and he was teaching me how to ride a horse, lost track of time,” Aziraphale stammered.  
“Wearing that?” Gabriel pointed to their clothes, now slightly grass stained from sleeping.  
“He falls off a lot, so I lent him old clothes,” Crowley said.  
“Why were you out all night?”  
“We went too far away and the horses needed to sleep. Just slept on the ground.”  
“Ugh, Aziraphale you must feel awful.”  
“It’s not that bad. I can sleep someplace other than my bed for ju-”  
“Anyways. You look awful, go get a bath or something before you present yourself to everyone,” Gabriel said.  
"Alright. Ignore me then," Crowley threw his hands in the air, Gabriel rolled his eyes and walked off. Crowley and Aziraphale took the long way to their bedchambers through the passages behind the tapestries, mostly just to hold hands and stay in their bubble just a few moments longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cries in writers block


	12. twelve (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family late-breakfast/early lunch does not go well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if i love the dialogue in this chapter but i've been in a little hovel of depression so forgive me

Aziraphale climbed out of the clawfoot bathtub when the water grew cold and his skin pruned, he really didn’t want to put on any uncomfortable clothes, so he found his third most comfortable outfit (behind his pyjamas and common clothes) and walked into the hall, where Crowley had had a similar idea, just with more black. Both boys made their way to the dining room for a very late breakfast, or a slightly early lunch, where both of their families sat in waiting. Michael tapped her foot with impatience.  
Normally their seating order went Aziraphale, and to his left Crowley, and next to him Michael. On the other side of the table Beelzebub sat directly across from Aziraphale, then to her left was Sandalphon’s wife, Sandalphon, and then Gabriel. Today Beelzebub sat in Crowley’s place and Gabriel in hers, leaving Gabriel’s seat open for Crowley. Coincidentally, Gabriel had chosen that seat so he could be as far from his little brother as possible when eating meals.  
It took Aziraphale a moment to notice that the heads of the table were unoccupied, nothing sat in the King’s seat, and nobody was where Aziraphale’s mother should be. This was a matter between all the children. With Aziraphale and Crowley as far from each other as possible, the conversation began with Sandalphon.  
“Aziraphale Yates, how dare you run away like that,” Sandalphon folded his hands on top of the table.  
“Who died and made you king?” Aziraphale snapped.  
“Nobody yet,” Sandalphon gritted his teeth, he had six fake ones, all gold, all awful.  
“Why are we all blaming Aziraphale?” Crowley got out of his seat and sat on the table instead, “It’s my fault. It was my idea.”  
“Right, Anthony,” Beelzebub spoke, “You have been corrupting my fiance.”  
“He would never have done this a week ago,” Gabriel cut in.  
“Who is to say I never tried?”  
“Excuse me?” Gabriel turned.  
“I said, who's to say I never tried to run off before,” Aziraphale crossed his arms.  
“Aziraphale you’re making it worse,” Crowley said from his seat on the table.  
“Shut your mouth, Tony, Aziraphale was saying something,” Beelzebub dug her claws into Aziraphale’s arm, a sensation he was beginning to get used to.  
“Bee, don’t call him Tony,” Aziraphale said, heart pounding in his chest, he had never called Beelzebub by her nickname before, and he had already dug himself into a hole.  
“What did you just call me?” Beelzebub’s claws made holes in Aziraphale’s sleeve and began to dig into his flesh.  
“I called you Bee, and as I was saying, I have tried to run off before. Before I even met Anthony,” Aziraphale winced as he felt warm blood run down his arm, Lord could she claw.  
“When?” Michael frowned.  
“When I was sixteen and you blamed me for father’s death,” Aziraphale felt his voice growing louder, “It was not my fault, the poison was probably meant for someone else anyways.”  
“I wish you had gotten it,” Michael muttered, bad decision. Crowley snapped around to Aziraphale’s sister and took her hand, squeezing it so hard his knuckles went white.  
“He is your fucking brother,” Crowley hissed.  
“Don’t speak to her like that,” Sandalphon tore Crowley’s hand away from Michael, and Crowley spat in his face.  
“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled, pushing his seat away from the table, Beelzebub dragged him down, she was much stronger than you’d think by looking at her sickly body.   
“You disgust me, Anthony,” Sandalphon said, wiping his face on his sleeve.  
“Oh, how awful,” Crowley mocked as he backed towards the door, “Come on, angel.” Aziraphale tore away from Beelzebub and walked quickly to catch up with his partner, running on pure adrenaline. In a split second he grabbed Crowley’s hand, without realizing it, and opened the dining room door and they both ran off, laughing.  
“Okay I’m going to go into a tunnel, meet me in there so we can lose them,” Aziraphale heard angry footsteps behind them and he crawled behind a tapestry of a naked woman and into the tunnels. He was getting much better at navigating them, he could at least make it to the epicenter easily, there, he found Crowley who ran to him.  
“You know, they all know now,” Crowley said, pressing into Aziraphale.  
“Yes, I know. It’s kind of invigorating,” Aziraphale replied, still pulsing with adrenaline, he rested against the wall, “But what now?”  
“No clue,” Crowley ran his hand through Aziraphale’s hair and rested a calloused palm on his cheek. Aziraphale still wasn’t quite used to all this touching, hand holding he had grown very fond of, but nobody ever touched his face or his hair or looked at him like that. And nobody ever kissed him like that, or at all. Aziraphale opened his mouth into the kiss and Crowley took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. Aziraphale pulled away, a little surprised.  
“Sorry,” Crowley flushed and backed away, “Just assumed that’s what was going on there.”  
“No, no it’s fine, it was just strange,” Aziraphale turned a new shade of red.  
“Kissing is weird when you think about it,” Crowley said after a second, “Just mashing your mouths together.” He made a vulgar motion with his hands, prompting a playful slap on the arm from his partner.  
“I suppose so,” Aziraphale smiled, “I like it, though.”  
“Is that so?” Crowley moved forward, pressing his knee into the wall, trapping Aziraphale.  
“Yes, it is,” Aziraphale smiled, “Beelzebub was right. You are trying to seduce me.”  
“Is it working?”  
“Maybe just a bit,” Aziraphale chastley kissed Crowley, “But there’s no time, we have to get out of here.”  
“Ugh,” Crowley muttered something under his breath.  
“What was that?”  
“Nothin’, let’s go.”  
“Is there a way to get out through the tunnels?”  
“I think so,” Crowley took his hand and led the way through the tunnels, occasionally they would hear a shout, or footsteps outside. Either Beelzebub had forgotten how to navigate the tunnels or forgot the existed all together, Aziraphale very much hoped it was the latter and gripped Crowley’s hand tighter.  
“Crowley?”  
“Hm?”  
Aziraphale didn’t really know what he was planning on saying until he said it, “I think I’m a bit more keen on the idea of running off now.” Crowley laughed, throwing his head back a bit, Aziraphale was mesmerized by the bounce of the crimson locks as they sped along. Aziraphale felt a warmth inside him, the kind they describe in books, all tingly and soft, and his heart had found its way to his throat, making a camp there.  
Suddenly there was a loud creaking, light filled the tunnel, Crowley let go of Aziraphale and disappear into the hole of light, yelling to be followed. Aziraphale bent over the hole of light, it was a trapdoor that led to a set of very precarious stairs lining the side of a cliff. The castle wasn’t on a cliff. How long had they been walking?  
Crowley had his back to the cliff and reached a hand for Aziraphale, who very gladly took it. They inched down the stairs together towards the beach below, the closer they got to the bottom, the faster they moved, but neither of the boys stopped clinging tightly to the others hand until Aziraphale took the final step onto the sand. Crowley began to walk over to a spot where the cliff became concave and echoed.  
“Hello!” Crowley shouted, and a dozen other Crowleys shouted back.  
“Echo!” a dozen Aziraphales, they both chuckled and the cave chuckled back. Crowley walked to a dingy little row-boat, it’s wood rotting and falling to bits.  
“Shit,” Crowley grumbled, as the bow broke off when he tried to grab it, “Plan B.” Aziraphale followed Crowley along the beach, wishing he had worn more layers as the breeze picked up, he put his arm around Crowley, who returned the gesture, and they kept walking. Luckily they were heading in the same direction as the wind, so sand in their faces wasn’t really an issue, most of the sand was damp from the low tide anyways.   
The sun was beginning to head towards the west, and everything found itself coated in a thin layer of gold, oh how Aziraphale had missed the gold of the sunset, even if a very similar color could be found in Crowley’s eyes. They found themselves in the harbour, and a large boat was getting ready to sail away, Crowley walked to talk to the captain, leaving Aziraphale to listen. The captain of the ship spoke so loud that Aziraphale did not need an introduction to him, but the interaction happened after Crowley had given him some money from his pocket.  
“Captain Tad Dowling, at your service,” He very aggressively shook hands with Aziraphale, who couldn’t quite place the accent, “Warlock!” A young boy, maybe Adam and Brian’s age stepped off the boat, with dark hair, almost as long as Crowley’s. The boy, Warlock, looked Crowley up and down then blew a tuft of hair from his face.  
“Warlock here is going to show you where you two will be bunking,” Tad elbowed the boy, presumably his son, judging by age, though he didn’t look it.  
“Father, you told me we wouldn’t be taking anyone else,” Warlock grumbled, his father whispered something in his ear, he perked up and led Aziraphale and Crowley onto the boat. The floorboards of the galley creaked as they made their way towards the bunks, three beds half the size that Aziraphale was used to sat one on top of the other sat on one wall, a matching set on the other. Two of them had bags sitting on top of the patchwork sheets, the rest were unoccupied, Aziraphale climbed a ladder to the bed that looked to be the least slept in, and sat down. He has slept on the ground last night, he could deal with a less than comfortable bed. Crowley took the bed beneath him and laid down, sighing loudly. Aziraphale laid down as well, more exhausted than he initially thought.  
“We will be setting sail shortly,” Warlock informed them from the doorway, before leaving, Aziraphale gumbled to show that he heard, lacing his fingers beneath his head. The young princes, if you could even call them that anymore, lay in silence, drifting in an out of consciousness.  
“Crowley?”  
“What?”  
“Where are we going?”  
“Can I be honest with you, angel?”  
“Please,” Aziraphale hoped Crowley would tell him the truth all the time.  
“I have no idea,” Crowley laughed.  
“I’m sure it will be better than here.”  
“Yes, I’m sure it will,” Crowley audibly smiled, which shouldn’t be possible, but he somehow managed to. At one point, Aziraphale, on the edge of sleep heard Crowley wake up, and felt his head bump beneath him. “Ah fuck,” Aziraphale listened as Crowley hopped onto the squeaky floorboards and climbed the bunk’s ladder, the blonde pressed himself into the wall to make room as Crowley slithered under the blanket.  
“Are you alright, darling?” Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley.  
“Didn’t realize you were awake. I’m fine, just a nightmare.”  
“What happened?”  
“Just the good old fashioned falling into nothing,” Crowley paused, “Except this time it was much worse. I had wings, and they were on fire and I tried to scream but it was like my throat was being torn out. And I didn’t fall into nothing, I fell into a big boiling pool-” Crowley began to shake, Aziraphale, ever the worrier, pressed his face into the back of Crowley’s neck, and wrapped his arms and legs around him like a snake.  
“Well, you’re safe now. If you fall, I think I could catch you,” Aziraphale said softly.  
“I don’t think you’re strong enough.”  
“I think you overestimate how heavy you are, dear, your bones are probably hollow. You might be missing a few ribs, too,” Aziraphale poked Crowley’s thin stomach lightheartedly. They both smiled, Crowley turned around and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, then his cheek, and jaw, and oh lord who knew a neck could be so sensitive. Aziraphale melted as Crowley continued, just his neck, he didn’t go further down than that, and he didn’t want him to. Aziraphale liked to take things at least a little slow, but he could still enjoy a good kiss, or a bite.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered.  
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Crowley moved his head up, pouting.  
“Would it be alright if we just slept? I’m exhausted.”  
“Yeah, ‘course, angel,” Crowley sighed, not in disappointment or anything, more of just a sigh. Aziraphale rested his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck, his face covered by the red locks, that really needed to be brushed, he placed a kiss on Crowley’s soft skin and drifted into a full sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there might be one or two more chapters, nearing the end here, i hope youve been enjoying it so far


	13. thirteen (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale make their way to a small town and decide to call it home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like this chapter and i hope you do too, we're nearing the end eeee.

Crowley rubbed sleep from his eyes and sat up, hitting his head on the ceiling, bunk beds, right. The ship swayed beneath him as he climbed the stairs onto the deck, brushing the knots from his hair as he walked.  
“Good morning, Crowley,” Aziraphale said from the galley, eating a slice of plain bread, they couldn’t toast it out here.  
“Morning, angel,” Crowley groaned, he had gotten too much sleep last night, his body just wanted to crawl back into the bed and sleep the rest of the journey to wherever the hell, “You ask where we’re going?”  
“Yes, Tad told me we’ll be making a few stops in a few ports on the way back, and we can get off wherever we like. The whole journey should be a month,” Aziraphale took another bite of bread.  
“A month? When’s the next port?”  
“Just another day, should arrive tomorrow morning,” Warlock entered the galley, his dark hair really needed to be washed. Crowley nodded and sat on the stool next to Aziraphale, grabbing the bread on his plate and shoved into his mouth. Aziraphale complained and Crowley laughed, spitting bits of bread out as he did, and it took him a full minute to swallow the bread, eating the whole slice all at once was a bad decision.  
The boys spent the day being harrassed by Warlock to play cards with him, while the Captain stayed at the wheel smoking and ignoring his son. Around three o clock (it could have just as well been noon, nobody had a clock, on the sea, you just have to trust what the captain tells you), Aziraphale gave into Warlock’s pestering, so naturally Crowley had to join. Warlock taught them how to play a game called Go Fish, Aziraphale was awful at hiding his cards, so Warlock won three games in a row, and Crowley won two.  
When the sun began to set they ate dried meat, room temperature cheese and bread. At least it was food. Tad drank whiskey which he allowed Warlock to sip, the kid had clearly drank before judging by how he drank it like water, and Crowley and Aziraphale drank sub-par wine, like the food, at least it was a drink.

Crowley sat on the deck with his gangly legs hanging over the side of the ship, the rising moon reflected in the salty water, and Crowley couldn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him above the crashing waves. He felt a warmth beside him and fingers laced through his, through his peripheral vision he saw Aziraphale in just his undershirt, stained with blood on one sleeve.  
“Aziraphale, is that blood?”  
“Hm? Oh, yes. Beelzebub,” he laughed, lifting his arm, “It’s healed now, and it’s just a stain.”  
“You seem like the type to care about stains.”  
“Well normally I would be, but I don’t have anything else to wear at the moment, and it’s much too warm for a jacket.”  
“Really? I’m fine,” although Crowley had to admit, he was often very cold, probably the lack of meat on his bones. He turned to Aziraphale, “I could probably get it out for you.”  
“I find it a little concerning you know how to get rid of blood stains, dear.”  
“Tavern fights happen sometimes, angel,” he shrugged, then tugged his lip down, revealing a scar right where his inner lip met his sharpest tooth, “Got this one because I slapped the wrong guy’s ass.”  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, exasperated but with a definitely loving way, “Let me kiss it better.” Crowley’s partner pecked him on the lips.  
“Gee, thanks,” Crowley laughed.  
“Lord, it’s warm tonight,” Aziraphale unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, revealing a mark on his neck, oops, “How on Earth are you not hot? You must be cold blooded.” The blonde paused, and Crowley suddenly realized he was staring, “What are you looking at?”  
Crowley pointed to the bruise on Aziraphale’s collarbone, “You’ve got a mark, angel.” Aziraphale looked down, turning red at the sight of the mark.  
“Fiend,” he muttered, re-buttoning his shirt.  
“Your fiend,” Crowley corrected, kissing an exposed part of Aziraphale’s neck.  
“Not out here, darling,” Aziraphale flushed.  
“Who’s gonna see us? The dolphins?”  
“No,” Aziraphale tugged at his collar, “Just I would prefer we stay at least a bit private. If it’s alright with you.”  
“Angel, if that’s what you want, that is what I will do.”  
“I like it when you call me angel,” Aziraphale wiggled in his seat, or, his place on the deck.  
“It’s because you are,” Crowley nipped at Aziraphale’s ear, making him jump and turn red, “Angel.”  
“Crowley! Don’t make me jump like that I’ll fall in the water,”Aziraphale slapped Crowley’s arm, “And I can’t swim.”  
“You can’t swim?” Crowley couldn’t imagine not being able to swim, he needed it to survive, when he and Beelzebub were little and they found the tunnel to the beach they would go down there for hours, and Beelzebub would occasionally try drowning her brother. Even if he hadn’t swam in a long time, he still knew how. It’s like riding a horse, just kick and paddle, kick and paddle. Crowley laughed at the thought of Aziraphale flailing about in four feet of water, “I’ll have to teach you.”  
“Don’t you dare throw me in that water,” Aziraphale scolded and got to his feet, making his way below deck, Crowley followed close behind. The young men peeled off their overclothes, even Crowley had to admit how warm it was inside, and it was much more comfortable to sleep that way. Aziraphale climbed into the top bunk, and Crowley nestled himself beneath Aziraphale’s arm, tugged the blankets up over them and felt the sea rock them both to sleep.

Crowley woke up first, and still found himself nestled under Aziraphale’s arm, so soft and warm. Even on a boat occupied with two strangers and already further from his home than he had ever been in his life with nothing but the clothes on his back, he felt more safe and secure than he had in a very long time. He turned around in bed and faced Aziraphale, who snored just a little bit, not enough to be annoying or keep you awake at night, just enough to let you know he was there. Crowley studied his face, the natural pink in his cheeks and the way his eyelashes curled up perfectly, his blonde hair was unruly but in a very handsome way. Crowley was nearly certain he was dreaming. Crowley closed his eyes again to sleep a bit more, rocked by the waves.   
“My dear, wake up, we’ve arrived,” Crowley felt himself being gently shaken, instead of using the bunk’s ladder he hopped onto the floor and unceremoniously tugged his overclothes on and tied his boots, Aziraphale was already dressed, of course he was. The young men joined hands and walked to the galley, split an apple and both had two slices of bread, they said goodbye to Tad and Warlock, and Aziraphale spent too much time thanking them.  
“Come on, angel, we need new clothes, and a place to sleep tonight,” Crowley tugged Aziraphale away and towards a market place. Bustling with children and adults alike, Crowley bought some clothes from a skinny young man with broken glasses named after a lizard, Crowley laughed about it afterwards and Aziraphale scolded him for being rude. The two walked and talked about nothing in particular until the found a small inn, owned by a woman in a bit too much makeup for an ex-nun as she had told them she was, even though they hadn’t asked. What was her name? Mary? Something like that.  
In their room was just one very uncomfortable bed with a dusty nightstand on either side and an oil lamp. It would have to make do. Crowley flopped onto the bed and crossed his legs.  
“You think we’ll go next town over or stay here?” he asked Aziraphale.  
“I quite like it here, we can build a cottage on the edge of town, call it a ‘bachelor’s pad’,” he laughed, “Or one of us could dress as a woman.”  
“Or we can just stay the way they are, ‘s not illegal or anything, ‘least it’s not here.”  
“It’s not?”  
“Well it’s not legal, per say, but there isn’t a law against it,” Crowley shrugged.  
“Well then it’s settled, we’ll build a cottage right on the edge of town, near the forrest.”  
“Angel, no offense, but I don’t think either of us is capable of building a cottage, I’m sure we can just buy one.”  
“You’re right, we can go looking now, if you’d like.”  
“Anything to get off this bed,” Crowley stood up, cracking his back, took Aziraphale’s hand and they walked out to the street. Miraculously, a small cottage on the edge of the forest was up for sale, the old woman who lived there alone had passed, and her family didn’t need it. Crowley swooped in with a handful of gold coins and bought it.  
“We hardly even need the Inn,” said Aziraphale.  
“Yes we do, need a place to sleep.”  
“Oh. Yes, right. We’ll have to buy a bed tomorrow, we can check the harbor for trade ships with mattresses or something.”  
“You’d better not be expecting what we had back at the castle, no turning back now.”  
“I know. I’m sure I can deal with it if you’re sharing it with me,” Aziraphale grinned and pecked Crowley’s cheek, “Come on, let’s go back to the Inn.”  
“It’s hardly three o’clock.”  
“I know,” Aziraphale winked and skipped off.  
“Oh!” Crowley turned red and followed Aziraphale back to the Inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might do a little time jump to get to domestic cottage boys. idk what to you think? (side note: do i really have to tell you what happens after this chapter. i dont write that stuff but all i have to say is: top crowley rights.)


	14. fourteen (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proposals are made, rings are bought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a week time skip, still have no idea what time period this is djjhahs

It only took Aziraphale and Crowley a week to make the small cottage a home, it had only one, vaguely square-shaped room with three windows, two that let the sunset in, and one to let the sunrise in, between two windows was a stone fire pit. A moderately small, but comfortable, bed sat in the corner, the tunk at its feet held big blankets in various shades of blue and red. Crowley had tried to put shelves on the wall, and wasn’t all that great at it, so the shelves were a bit crooked, but could hold clothes nonetheless. In the center of the room was a small circular table that had seen better days, surrounded by four chairs that did not match in the slightest. Crowley had bought an incredibly small figure of two angels- wrestling, he found it very funny and put it on the scratched up nightstand on his side of the bed, next to the oil lamp. It felt strangely wonderful to hold hands with Crowley and leap into the great unknown, Aziraphale felt like he had known Crowley for thousands of years, even if he hadn’t officially met him until less than a month ago.  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked one Sunday.  
“Hm?” Crowley looked up from a tattered book he’s bought the day prior, something about stars.  
“Do you think they’ll come looking for us?”  
“Maybe,” Crowley put his book down and got up from his arm chair (one of two, although you would often find Crowley sitting on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair rather than in his own), he sat on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair and leaned into him.  
“What would you do if they did?”  
“Declare that I have seduced you to my evil will. And we could get married and then there would be no need for us up there anymore.”  
“Isn’t a marriage what our parents wanted?” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who had no concept of personal space, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  
“It’s illegal in your country, so I doubt one between us would be peachy,” Crowley laughed, and Aziraphale considered this for a moment.  
“The more important question is; do you want to get married?” An engagement after two weeks might seem a bit fast for some people, but considering Aziraphale hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries at funerals and weddings he didn’t want to attend, before he was set to marry her. Two weeks seemed like an abundance of a relationship.  
“Is that a proposal?”  
“I suppose so,” Aziraphale shrugged.  
“Not even going to get on one knee? Where’s my ring?” Crowley joked.  
“We can go buy one if you’d like,” Aziraphale got to his feet and took a calloused hand in his, he really needed a manicure, but he doubted he would ever be able to get one again.  
In the marketplace a sweet older woman with orange hair was selling all sorts of over the top jewelry, but she did have a few normal things. The woman, presumably Madame Tracy judging by the sign on her stand, informed Aziraphale that everything was handmade, as he complimented her handiwork, Crowley asked if she had any rings. She pulled out a box of mostly silver rings and set it on the table.  
“Angel, look away,” Crowley said and began to dig through the box.  
“I thought I was getting a ring for you,” Aziraphale replied.  
“We can both have rings,” he clanged about in the box, “But you can’t see yours.” Crowley gasped and Aziraphale heard the exchange of money for goods, he turned around and Crowley was tucking something into his pocket. “No peeking,” he grinned. Aziraphale made Crowley look away while he searched the rings. Crowley, rather than looking away, ran off to a bookseller, fine by Aziraphale, he would have probably peaked anyways.  
Aziraphale picked out a small silver ring, hoping it was the right size. Just a small silver band with an angel’s wing on it, Aziraphale could selfishly admit he had bought it because it reminded him of Crowley’s nickname for him. Madame Tracy said something about lucky ladies as Aziraphale bought the ring, he laughed to himself and walked off to find Crowley, who was very easy to find because of his bright red hair and his height. Crowley had some sort of book on mythology with a leather bound cover in his arms and was currently purchasing parchment, ink and a quill from a very angry looking old man, who seemed more at ease when Crowley placed money in his hand and left with his goods.  
“Hey angel, I realized I should probably write a letter to the Youngs about where we’ve gone,” he gestured to the parchment in his arms.  
“Probably a wise choice. You’ll have to ask him if there’s gossip of our whereabouts,” Aziraphale said and began to walk home.  
“Oh will do.”  
“Maybe you murdered me and they had to get rid of you in case you struck again,” Aziraphale suggested, walking along the dirt path.  
“Maybe Beelzebub killed both of us because she was jealous of our love,” Crowley laughed, “There’s been rumors since my birthday, you know.”  
“There has?” Aziraphale should not have been shocked by this, but he was, nonetheless.  
“Of course there has, stupid.”  
“Hey!”  
“Sorry, angel, you know I love you.”  
It then dawned on Aziraphale that he didn’t in fact know that. Even though they were planning on getting married. They hadn’t said it out loud.  
“You do?” was all he could say.  
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my fiance now,” Crowley smirked.  
“I suppose I am.”  
“Well,” Crowley sighed, to Aziraphale’s confusion, “Aren’t you going to say it back?”  
“Hm? Oh! Yes. I love you too, Anthony.”  
“Back to Anthony now, am I?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.  
“You said your friends call you Crowley. We are not friends,” Aziraphale would have taken Crowley’s hand were it not occupied with a book, so he settled on wrapping his arm over his fiance’s shoulders, “We’re engaged.”  
“Okay cool it, lover boy,” if you asked Crowley later he would say that Aziraphale was being annoying, but the pink on his cheeks gave away that he really wasn’t all that annoyed, more. Infatuated. Smitten. All those good words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are really really appreciated, and i think we're nearing the end here, folks (btw, here is what i based crowley's ring on: https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51FWkJaMpYL.jpg )


	15. fifteen (crowley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lovebirds spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michael sheen came into my home and held a sword to my throat and made me write this chapter.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley laughed, turning around to Aziraphale down on one knee in the middle of the cottage.  
“Well I have to do it right,” he took a deep, dramatic, breath, “Anthony James Crowley,” he began, very theatrically, “You have made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Would you do me the pleasure of making me even happier and marrying me?” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his.  
“I’m certain you already know the answer.”  
“You have to say it!”  
“Yes.”  
“Yes what?”  
“Yes,” Crowley sighed, “I will marry you.” Aziraphale took a silver ring with an angel’s wing in it’s center from his pocket and slipped it onto Crowley’s finger, he didn’t expect the silver to be warm but that tends to happen when something is in the pocket of a very warm person. Crowley pulled the ring he had bought Aziraphale from his pocket, just a simple silver snake wound around curvy designs with writing in some other language on the inside, he hoped that it meant something positive, but he was never sure.  
“Oh Crowley, it’s a snake,” Aziraphale smiled as Crowley slipped the ring over his finger, “Like the tapestries.”  
“And you got me an angel’s wing,” Crowley teased.  
“Well, it reminded me of me.”  
“How sweet,” Crowley tugged Aziraphale towards him and lips met lips, hands found their way to hair and the smalls of backs. Crowley walked forwards with Aziraphale still in his grip towards Aziraphale’s very ugly tartan armchair where Crowley practically straddled his new fiance. Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s heartbeat against his hand that had moved up his fiance’s shirt and was pushing into his chest.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale tugged away, “It’s hardly five o’clock. We should at least go have dinner.”  
“Tease,” Crowley stood up and adjusted his clothes, more specifically his trousers. Aziraphale tucked his shirt into his trousers and adjusted his infuriatingly high shirt collar, silver snake glinting in the golden sunlight streaming in the windows.  
The young men found their way to a small cafe that had miraculously just had a table for two open in a corner, it was a bit crowded but the two of them had certainly been closer together and the feeling of Crowley’s knee bumping into Aziraphale’s was very welcome and familiar. They ate soft bread and some sort of fish, Aziraphale seemed to enjoy it more than Crowley, washed down with wine that was hardly strong enough to be considered much more than grape juice. Crowley ate his food much faster than Aziraphale, who ate slow enough that it could almost make one angry, almost. Crowley couldn’t find himself angry at Aziraphale, who was actually quite cute when he ate, taking dainty bites and smiling.  
When Aziraphale had finally finished eating and Crowley paid for their food, he was going to need to find a way to make money soon, the young men walked along the docks aimlessly, calloused hand in gentle hand. Crowley found himself more often than not staring at Aziraphale, with his perfectly pink cheeks and his pale blonde curls, that were starting to get a bit long, but it suited him.  
While they were technically in the territory of Eden, the people of the small sea-side town hardly ever saw more than sketches of their own royal family, and had no clue what the Yates of Easterngate looked like, so the love-birds could walk easily through the street without being recognized. Even if they were noticed, they looked very different to all the people here, soft skin mostly untouched by disease, soft hair, and strangely bright eyes, that and they were two men holding hands. People knew that two men held hands and did other things but it was very rare to see it in public, but if anybody tried to say anything about it, Crowley would very near hiss at them, and Aziraphale was none the wiser.  
“Shall we get married tomorrow? Just go to a priest and have a little wedding?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley opened the door to their cottage.  
“I at least want to write the Youngs and invite them,” Crowley closed the door behind them and went to sit on the arm of Aziraphale’s armchair, and Aziraphale sat down in it properly.  
“That would take at least four days, darling,” Aziraphale complained.  
“Don’t be so impatient, every wedding needs witnesses,” Crowley chastised and walked to the table where his new parchment and quills sat and started a letter to the Young children and their mother.  
“Diedre, Adam, Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian,” he began, reading what he was writing aloud to Aziraphale, “It’s Crowley, I swear I’m not dead or kidnapped. I am in the village of- Angel where are we?”  
“Alpha Centauri.”  
“Alpha Centauri, with my new fiance,” he put extra emphasis on the word as he said it, “Aziraphale. It’s by the seaside, we live in a little cottage on the edge of town. Aziraphale and I would appreciate if you could find your way out here as soon as possible. Sincer- no, Love, Crowley.”  
“You have such a way with words, darling, so eloquent.”  
“Don’t patronise me,” Crowley blew on the ink to help it dry then folded the letter, sealing it with a bit of candle wax, because he forgot to buy wax for sealing letters, and pressed into it with his hand, he didn’t particularly mind the heat of the wax. Aziraphale scolded him as he could have burned himself, but Crowley had been burned before, not all that bad. Crowley momentarily fantasized about shoving one of Aziraphale’s siblings into a fire, especially Gabriel, he was far too pretentious for someone who missed being a king by twenty three minutes.  
“I think I’m ready for bed, dear,” Aziraphale said as he got up from his chair, and began unbuttoning his shirt.  
“Oi that’s my job,” Crowley yelled from where he sat.  
“Well then hurry up or you’ll have to lose it,” Aziraphale teased.  
“Bastard,” Crowley sauntered over to Aziraphale and did his job, if you were to ask Aziraphale he would say that Crowley is very good at his job.  
“I’m your bastard,” Aziraphale giggled and pressed his hands into Crowley’s hair, he really needed a haircut, maybe tomorrow.  
“I know,” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s neck, below where he knew shirt collars would cover, “I love you.”  
“I love you too dear, ah!”

Morning came all too fast and Crowley wriggled out from beneath Aziraphale and was hit by the cold air, he got very messily dressed and wrote an address on the letter to the Youngs before walking to the docks and delivering the letter to a mail ship. On the way home he bought a loaf of cinnamon bread, which certainly wouldn’t be as good as what Ms.Young would make, but would probably be delicious all the same. Once home he put the bread on the table and got undressed to climb back into bed, today was going to be a lazy day, he decided, just to be alone with his fiance. Crowley really liked that word. Fiance. Although husband will be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know i had to name the village Alpha Centauri, comments are super duper appreciated. crowley tops but hes a little spoon no i do not take suggestions, (this is aziraphale's ring btw https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0061/1522/9760/products/tri559-0_500x@2x.progressive.jpg?v=1551841866 )


	16. sixteen (aziraphale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else happens after an engagement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit short, sorry, but i promise the last chapter will be a good long epilogue. mention of nudity in this chapter and aziraphale has a nightmare D:

Aziraphale stretched and crawled from bed and began to get dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the small, dirty mirror mounted on the wall, the indent of his ring was on his cheek, he must have slept on the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Crowley. His fiance received a letter last night from the Youngs saying they were supposed to arrive on the twenty-sixth, and Crowley promised they could be married on the twenty-seventh, already arranged it with a local priest (even if he wasn’t fond of churches, if Aziraphale wanted a church wedding who was he to say no?) What was today? Aziraphale would have to ask someone in town. He planted a kiss on Crowley’s forehead, lord could the young man sleep, and left to the market to add to his ever-growing collection of books. Crowley still had some money left in his pocket, surprisingly, but the two of them had been doing quick jobs here and there for money, Crowley knew a surprising amount of things about plants and what could be used for what, that was going well for him.  
Aziraphale, on the other hand, was bartering with men who hardly knew the value of the books they had, it was practically stealing, and when Aziraphale had a substantial enough collection he planned to open a bookshop, or a stand in the market. The former prince spotted the young sickly man he had bought clothes from on his first day in the village, the one Crowley had teased for his name, what was it? Something with a lizard. Aziraphale approached the stand and eyed the nicer clothes, his wedding was soon, he would need something.  
“Zira, correct?” said the sickly young man.  
“Yes,” Aziraphale didn’t bother correcting him, the less people knew his name, he figured, the better, less likely to spread, “My apologies, but, I don’t recall your name.”  
“Newt,” the bespectacled young man replied, fussing at a tuft of dark hair.  
“Say, do you know the date?”  
“I’m not sure, I believe it’s the twenty-sixth,” Newt pushed his glasses up, only for them to fall down again, he didn’t seem to care. Aziraphale’s heart found its way to his throat, he grabbed a nice black coat and a white one from the stand and pressed money into Newt’s palm, before thanking him and running off.

“There you are, angel,” Crowley exclaimed from the bed, still unclothed.  
“Just went out, you sleep a lot, you know that?”  
“Yeah, but the Youngs are coming today, and you know what that means,” Crowley brushed his hair that had just been recently cut, shorter than it was upon their first meeting, but only slightly so.  
“Oh do I?” Aziraphale grinned.  
“We’re getting married tomorrow!” Crowley practically screeched and Aziraphale feigned a gasp.  
“Is that really tomorrow?” Aziraphale placed a hand on his forehead theatrically.  
“Oh hush,” Crowley tugged his trousers on, Aziraphale had told him they were going to be too small, but Crowley didn’t seem to mind as he wriggled his hips to get the trousers over his waist. Good lord, thought Aziraphale, why is he like this. Crowley buttoned his shirt and offered an arm to Aziraphale, who put their new coats down on the chair and took the arm of his fiance.  
“We should go to the docks and eat breakfast while we wait for the Youngs,” Aziraphale opened the front door and Crowley led the way to the docks, and the two slipped into a small shop that had particularly enticing bread in the window, Aziraphale ended up ordering some sort of cake with strawberries on top, Crowley had insisted he wasn’t hungry, but still stole nearly half of Aziraphale’s cake, they sat, drinking tea (that Crowley had sold them the leaves for, in fact) until Aziraphale saw a young girl sneaking up behind Crowley, finger to her lips.  
“Crowley!” Pepper shrieked, and he leapt from his seat, and they heard the laughter of three other children and the softer laughter of an adult woman.  
“You little bastard,” Crowley turned around and strangled Pepper into a hug, but he was soon smothered by Brian and Adam, then Wensleydale, who probably wanted to avoid being crushed, and one couldn’t blame him. The five of them laughed and Ms.Young shook Aziraphale’s hand, introducing herself properly as Diedre.  
Crowley led the kids to the Yates-Crowley household (soon to solely be the Crowley household, Aziraphale didn’t wish to keep Yates).  
Pepper laid on her stomach on the bed, Brian beside her with Adam, Crowley, Wensleydale and Dog sitting attentively on the floor, listening to Pepper and Brian both insist that they had kissed the same girl, and arguing over the details of both their stories. Adam came to the conclusion of identical twins, while Crowley seemed more entertained by the idea of it being the same girl, Aziraphale also thought this, but he was trying to let Crowley catch up with friends, they had the rest of their lives together, he could spare some alone time.  
The rest of the day was remarkably similar to this, the children, including Crowley, left to find a tavern, Crowley kissed Aziraphale goodbye and left Aziraphale alone with Diedre and Dog, Diedre soon left to an Inn and bid Aziraphale a good night.  
Eventually, Aziraphale changed into pyjamas and slithered under the blankets and curled into a ball, his heart pounding far too fast to fall asleep, he was going to be Married tomorrow. The blonde took a deep breath and let it out, repeating until he was able to fall asleep.

“Zira!” Gabriel shouted, slapping Aziraphale’s back, he shot into the air, “Never thought we’d find you.”  
“Where’s Crowley?” Aziraphale demanded, sitting up in bed, he hadn’t been naked before, but now he miraculously was, and he tugged the blanket over his chest,  
“Oh,” Gabriel tutted, “he has been imprisoned for kidnapping and treason”  
“What?”  
“He’s to be executed at our wedding, love,” Beelzebub appeared behind Gabriel, she was also naked but her body was coated in sores and warts, she crawled next to Aziraphale, digging claws into his arm, the sores and warts began to spread to his body as she moved closer to him, and Aziraphale found himself sobbing very violently.

“Angel?” Crowley shook Aziraphale awake, “Angel, it’s just a bad dream.” Aziraphale opened his eyes to Crowley beside him, safe, and found himself sobbing into his fiance. “Just a bad dream,” Crowley assured softly, sitting the two of them up and rocking back and forth.  
“Crowley, it was awful, Gabriel and Beelzebub were there, and the-” Aziraphale held back a sob, “They were going to execute you and force me to marry Beelzebub.”  
“Well they won’t do that,” Crowley tightened his arms around Aziraphale, “Because you’re marrying me! Today!”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you, too. Now get dressed, I just wanna be your dumb husband,” Crowley jumped from the bed, already half dressed.  
Aziraphale was so nervous/excited he could hardly remember anything after that, until he was in a church, holding hands with Crowley, and he uttered two words that the blond repeated, and he was kissing his husband. His. Husband.  
They were fucking married. This moment felt like a lifetime in the making, maybe more than one.  
Five sets of applause came from the pews and they all signed a fancy piece of paper, declaring it official that nobody could touch either of them. Although Crowley’s signature became smeared when his eyes welled up and he cried onto it, Aziraphale wiped a tear from his husbands cheek with his thumb and kissed him again.  
The seven people and one dog went out for a late lunch or very early dinner and afterwards the newly-weds retired to their home, with a loud ‘Oooooh’ from the Young children, mostly Brian, though. Normally Aziraphale would care about things like that, but they were married now, all was well. More than well, actually, all was utterly perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this chapter, the wedding probably wasn't what you expected but i've only been to one wedding and it was defo not anything similar to this. next chapter is an epilogue, probably a year or so time skip, may or may not be incredibly soft and it may or may not discuss fatherhood


	17. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> funerals are had for people who haven't died yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said this would be long but uhm. im lazy.

It had been about a year since Aziraphale and Crowley had run off together, and they certainly looked different, felt very different as well. Aziraphale had let his blonde curls grow a big out of his head, he had the faint beginnings of lines around his eyes, had lost some weight (though that was just due to not having access to castle food at all hours of the day), his hands began to callous, and he had a small golden ring hanging from his ear where Crowley had stabbed a needle into it. Crowley’s hair was still long and red, but it curled more, as he was never forced to straighten it out, and his eyes were now often hidden by glasses with smoked lenses, as he was working outside all day with plants, his freckles darkened and appeared in new places, and he and his husband were just a bit more tan and looked the happiest they ever had, making them nearly unrecognizable.   
This was very helpful, as they had recently both been declared dead.   
“Angel, your funeral is today,” Crowley grinned.  
“I’m very aware of that, dear,” Aziraphale replied, fiddling with his shirt buttons, “You’re too aggressive with these,” he chided, “You’re going to break one off one day.”  
“That’s the plan.”  
“Fiend.”  
“Your fiend,” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand, “Come on angel.” Now, there had already been (separate) funerals for Crowley and Aziraphale in the centers of Eden and Easterngate, but they were now touring them around, taken in their prime, idiotic love, all that. Rumors spanned from double suicide, to murder, it’s suspects were often debated, though Beelzebub was often a winner, as she had been rid of suitors before, and ocasionaly one would hear that the two princes ran off together, took on new names. A small village in Easterngate apparently housed a husband and wife by the names of Ashtoreth and Francis, who were reportedly very angry at being accused of being fake people, many people enjoyed this theory because many boys in Eden were now discussing the affairs they had with Crowley, even if they hadn’t, or had been to ones to initiate it.  
Crowley, personally, liked to divulge in all of these rumors, especially those that painted him and Aziraphale dead somewhere, he found it very funny, although Aziraphale did not.  
Music played loudly in the street as the young men went out to the docks, where the large painting of Aziraphale was displayed, accompanied by a fake crying Beelzebub, and a real crying mother of Aziraphale. Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon and his wife (and now child) were indifferent, but smiled and waved at people as the boat docked itself. Aziraphale’s nephew tugged at a gold tooth in his father’s mouth, something Aziraphale had definitely wanted to do at some point, and he wished he could tell the young boy, but he knew full well he never could. Beelzebub let out a dramatic cry as she was helped into a carriage, in what Crowley assumed was going to be her wedding dress, next to Aziraphale’s painting, which wasn’t all that flattering, they hadn’t gotten his nose right. Did they do this in every city they visited? How awful.  
Crowley stifled a laugh as the carriage bumped on the uneven road and startled Beelzebub, earning a nudge from his husband. Crowley was unsure he would ever get tired of saying husband, and Aziraphale felt the same way. The service was short, Aziraphale’s mother spread ashes of what could only be clothes (if it had been books Aziraphale might have just thrown himself into to ocean) at the front gate of the town, something about leaving a bit of him everywhere. Crowley pretended to wipe his eyes with a handkerchief he had stolen from Aziraphale’s pocket, muttering something about a young, handsome, prince, struck down in his prime, what a shame he died a virgin, this earned him another nudge from Aziraphale.  
Anyone who looked at Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship from the outside would see two reclusive young men who were polar opposites that just happened to live together, who had recently accidentally adopted an old cat named Agnes that was always on the heels of one of them. Agnes was far too old to still be alive and the two young men she trailed behind had very old souls, a local psychic had once said that their souls were six-thousand years old, but were always intertwined, and everyone in Alpha Centauri seemed to agree with that. Aziraphale and Crowley were fine with that, and lived a very content life together.   
It wasn’t until long after Beelzebub had been married off to Gabriel that any member of the royal family found out that the two young princes were still alive, but the person who had found that out was Aziraphale’s nephew, who spent his teenage years studying records, searching for his uncle, in desperate hopes to run off to him, he wasn’t a big fan of princely duties, at least he liked his betrothed. This was a happy ending, Aziraphale’s nephew decided, upon finding his uncle’s name in a book of marriage certificates in the library of Eden while he visited his other uncle and his aunt for the summer.   
At the same moment, Aziraphale decided the same thing, as he watched his husband hold tightly to a village child whose parents had just died, kissing her tiny forehead, Crowley announced they were keeping her, like a child asking to keep a lost dog they had found (much like Adam had declared to his mother upon finding Dog).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's the end, folks! i really really hope you liked it and comments are Still appreciated (also, an artist gave me their blessing to write a fic based on their au, another ineffable husbands fic, so keep an eye out for that)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this aaaaa. like i said i'm just testing the waters with this chapter i hope you liked it


End file.
